The Brink
The broad creek crawls
through the wide cleft
of cliffs
nubbed with trees.
The brown water ripples
with droplets of summer light.
High above I
seem to splash
through a trillion leaves;
a trillion shapes
of effervescent green
flourishing on branches-
so obviously twigs
so easily snapped...
why even try to
hold on
tight.
1991 Poetic Voices of America- Anthology; Sparrowgrass
No comments:
Post a Comment