| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
| |
SKIING ON THE LAST DAY OF SNOW |
|
|
|
| ::: |
|
|
| |
| FUGUE IN DARK GREEN
|
|
| |
It's a high day
with shape-naming clouds:
train crocodile dog-chasing-squirrel.
And beneath feet, moss on rocks.
And beneath rocks, river
moving fast
as though pouring from a bottle.
And child
with parents. It's a high day of
green shadow thick bush forest
sliced with shards
of sunlight. Along the ledge
a child with twig in the water.
Parents watch
the high wheel of seagulls,
intricate as watch gears
dip rest fish
one replaces
the other over
and over above the high green river.
A small twig slips
into the day beneath the river
and hand reaches low
stretches reaches hand
a tiny arm
into the green sky
while clouds flash past
fast forward.
High days forever slipping. Reaches
too far. In. Slips
too fast. Too tiny
an arm to reach up, to stretch up to green
sky of bush and sunlight flash,
to reach parents. Arms stretch
and flash past,
forever
the last time.
|
from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski
|
| |
|
|
|
| |
|
|
|
