“But I always think that the best way to know God is to love many things.”
~ Vincent van Gogh

Saturday, August 20, 2011

The Creek, Pottsville

December 2006

I play in the rippling river,
kicking against the current
and letting it float me back,
then rest on a hummock of sand
under the shallow surface.

The pelicans have departed
to the trees on the further bank.
Beyond, I hear the roar
of the surging ocean.

One suddenly flies right over me
feet tucked up, its wide wings
surprising me, half black.


 (Another oldie I've been tinkering with.)

5 comments:

  1. Thanks for sharing it. I liked the serenity it creates, only to disturb it a bit towards the end.

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  2. That is a great little poem. Very fine indeed.

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  3. Many thanks to you both for reading and commenting.

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  4. This one startles, Rosemary - going from dreamily languid to shocking reality.

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  5. Barb, perhaps you are reading more into it than I intended. We don't often get to see the underside of a pelican's wings, but the black feathers were natural.

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