The RIGHT KIND OF STRONG IN THE WRONG PLACE

Along the path where I hike
And run I feel the same rocks beneath my soles,
And I inevitably pass by the same isolated puddle.
It sits without the slightest alteration to its size
Or depth, as though it were a fresh wound at an
Inflexible distance from the redemptive power
Of the seasons.

allets's picture

"...inflexible distance..."

Now I know the name of the measurements for puddles. Cool words - slc


 

 

Stephen's picture

Welcome to PostPoems.

Nice write.  ---   Stephen