Monday, October 24, 2016

on the bridge

all the murmuring leaves
under the basket of the trees
hugging the soil
humus and life
the silver bullets of light
through their frayed garments
polish of red lips
on their tips
while in the undergrowth of twiny grass
a split shot motion of a body
slippers off the feet of immobility
coasting along the path to find a route
that is hidden

mice perhaps
or the dogged whiplash of a squirrel
with a tail rope
who knows?
the butt headed sounds of a woodpecker
and the bleeding tree
with the amber sap
anchored in small rivulets
on the  bridge
the cast iron river flowing still
the beaver's dam      pierced earring 
through which the ear of the water passes
ripped off and lost
walking home the serene darkness like a rug you walk on

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