I am the ache that rolls down the mountain
a cascade of tears from a rushing a steam
a landslide of rocks on fire in the moonlight
the sob of the wind that cries from a canyon
the moss that clings to a boulder
and a leave floating.
I am a wolf that no longer howls
a bat that finds no cave
a raindrop that cannot be purified
a mine that has no shaft
a tree that has no roots
and withers in the sun.
Sally, a fine follow-up to Arthur, an honor for any poet to be given such as
this.
S2 great work, so good, I might wish for S1 to be similiar, at least in the
short form and style, but that is a minor nit can be ignored.
Thanks.
Gary
October with Judy and Scio: Homepage:
http://gardawg.homestead.com/homestead.html,
Submissions: http://www.writershood.com/index.html
Poets for Peace. ˇPoemas sí, balas no!
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