Serpentine
River
Summer
Touches of a doe’s tongue
At the tail end of a slithering brook
Pools with other thoughts
In emerald eyes that beckon thirsty souls.
In your repose
Casual legs caress the sun,
Splayed toes cool the sand
As you gaze without shame
Upon the emerging boulders.
As sure as the madrone
That leans toward your raised cup
I approach the shimmering threshold,
Pause for a breeze of doubt
Then join the silky dance
Of your collected dreams.
I absolutely love the last stanza...although I'm still trying to figure out the madrone part.
ReplyDeleteHere's a July poem:
Tired fingers try to scrub away
this old worn frown.
Sitting in the low fog
my breath turns into you;
in front of me
your face fades
your voice a memory
as the embers burn
slowly
I wait and hold
myself
so far from how
you would.
When I see the madrone tree leaning over the river it seems in awe of the river's beauty and power, and faithful, as it is taking part in communion. I must have taken that image for granted - should describe it better. Thanks for the feedback.
DeleteYour poem made me feel sad about the past, but gives me faith. Beautiful.