Saturday, June 2, 2012

For a Moment, Purpose

I was young once and didn’t know it
was the frothy whitewater time of my life;

strong, violent and shaping sharpness smooth
before becoming gentle in dreary decline,

widening into pools where dark carp lurked
and skulked in the muck that had settled below.

Still, there was a seeping of black earth green
around me and, for a moment, purpose

until everything turned the after-harvest brown
of a tired and worn-out ground.

Big River Poetry Review - June 2, 2012

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