River stones
Long run dry
Flatten the path
Breath grasped
Into a saddle
Of the moon
Every step
Grinding dirt
Between rubber
And earth
This need
Disappeared among boulders
Picked apart
By snout and beak
Still following the sun
Longed for one
Rest
I can't stop
3 comments:
nah because if you stop, you wont get up again...and at least the dry river bed once had water...maybe you will find some once more...
I think this is a beeutiful piece of writing about reaching for something more than just .. or that is how i have read this .. alway love your writing always B x
This searching through stone and rock, has an impressionist quality about, perhaps a traveller condemned to travel hard roads of life.
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