tanka

tanka--
small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Sunday, October 26, 2014

A Riffle in the Stream

sinking
onto creaky knees
she dams the brook
with shining pebbles . . .
time wells up and overflows


a west wind
circles the empty house
scattering
petals on the grass
she lets go her names


she comes
to the end of her path 
through the wood…
no trace of her footsteps
on moss deeper than memory




~cattails 3: Sept. 2014

2 comments:

  1. very reflective, this journey through time. a thought-provoking, kind of eery ending - no evidence of her existence.

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