Afternoon Poem, October 6, 2016

 

In the tenth hour of the tenth day of the tenth month

We go rolling like a river through the turning trees

Then out into open pastures and meadows

Where crows lift out of brush piles and the crooked creek runs slow and clear.

 

The morning is bright and cold and on the downhills

I start to shiver and peddle hard for the next patch of sunlight

To warm my back.

 

copyright 2016

Advertisements
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s