I have been here before,
On this creek bed.
I know the walls of each shore.
The center, where the stream flows.
The center, where the boil bubbles.
Life returns to the surface,
Forcing its way through.
The first budding,
Then every color
On this creek bed.
I know the walls of each shore.
The center, where the stream flows.
The center, where the boil bubbles.
Life returns to the surface,
Forcing its way through.
The first budding,
Then every color
~
The Thaw, a collection of intimate poems by Philip Monte Verde, can be downloaded for free here.
