Afternoon Poem, March 21, 2017



Go to the old roads, the narrow pavements

That run beside the creeks

Top the ridges of the hills and drop and glide as

The world opens into great bowls of green

Of meadow and forest.

Where some little rill runs down a mountainside

And into the wide stream

Listen to it rush


Deer bound away and in the water

Some Great Blue Heron wades

Head cocked sideways

Waiting for a silver minnow

Muskrats work the deep holes

Leaving trails of mud in the clear water


Here and there cattle loll and stare

And ground is broken for new fences

And the delivery and utility trucks

Are the only traffic.


Copyright 2017




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