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BRihlmannPoems
****** into the desert sky from sage leaves and pine needles from lizards sunning themselves on rocks and raptors preying on them from above and from us walking by the river and all the people on the sidewalks and city streets sweating and breathing from the last exhalations of dying grandparents in hospital beds and later from the crematory chimney it rises once part of us, and what is left of them and mingles enfolding dust in its crystalline embrace and falling softly white over mountains shivering in howling winter winds they cannot hear the laughter of children resurrecting them as snowmen with cold red fingers later abandoning them in the meadow under the merciless sun soaking muddy green fields of springtime they percolate through soil into channels small and large and finally down the canyon roaring grey green and foaming white over rapids through eddies swirling into a pool cupped in a grey granite palm ancient yet smooth as newborn skin where I dip my hands shatter that harsh yellow eye into a thousand fireflies and splash cool water on my face
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Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
The River Is Not The River
****** into the desert sky from sage leaves and pine needles from lizards sunning themselves on rocks and raptors preying on them from above and from us walking by the river and all the people on the sidewalks and city streets sweating and breathing from the last exhalations of dying grandparents in hospital beds and later from the crematory chimney it rises once part of us, and what is left of them and mingles enfolding dust in its crystalline embrace and falling softly white over mountains shivering in howling winter winds they cannot hear the laughter of children resurrecting them as snowmen with cold red fingers later abandoning them in the meadow under the merciless sun soaking muddy green fields of springtime they percolate through soil into channels small and large and finally down the canyon roaring grey green and foaming white over rapids through eddies swirling into a pool cupped in a grey granite palm ancient yet smooth as newborn skin where I dip my hands shatter that harsh yellow eye into a thousand fireflies and splash cool water on my face
Written by
BRihlmann
44/M/Nevada
Aug 25, 2018
Aug 25, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
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