Friday, December 21, 2012



Water falls upwards in my tree
Breaking branches
Rushing up the leaves
Sluicing up the roots
From the wells we dug

Years ago, when the sun shone
When we sat on the shore
And brightly sank our boats in loam;

Who was to know those tarry planks would rise,
Drift so slowly up through earth and stone,
Stop our hearts, stop our breathing,
Stop our minds' sight

Until we walk in wood and watch through thin slats

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