Broken stones clog
his throat-song.
Gravel-paved voices
scrape the sky
raw.
Shards of story
stream a fluent
babbling,
as icy waters
erode
and cleanse
the canyoned
past....
One ripped pebble
at a time
plays a new song
where waters shining
scatter silver.
Can you hear
music birthing,
bursting groaning
homewards
from this earth-bound wind?
No comments:
Post a Comment