The river runs down slowly
through a narrow, muddy channel,
falling off ten feet
through nothing but air
before shattering on a rock.

We come, sometimes,
to watch the sunlight
dance on the black mud walls,
to touch the roots of a chinkapin oak,
spreading and winding
down deep in the earth,
and to rest
with the stones
and the shadows.

 

Hear it:

Comments (0)

There are no comments posted here yet