Saturday, February 5, 2011

The River

The river is calm today
like a grey skin of ice,
slickened to catch the fallen sky
and as still as a serpentine lake
A lull, a holding breath,
life to tugs and gulls and watchers
from every River Road

Yet, yesterday it writhed
and churned to milk,
smashed against all that touched
the fitul water's pulse,
heaved and roared
and hungry for the sea
The same waters gathering
a thousand streams forever,
all moods and seasons

But below its smirk and guile
the enduring drift rests
in unfathomable stillness,
like the space between thoughts
of the beginner's mind
where rivers and souls do meet

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for the kind comments on my blog. I have read a few of your poems and will continue to read them over this week. I find them very interesting and I also enjoy the photos you have chosen to go along with each post.

    Best,
    Peter

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