HOPE

I lie enfolded in the gloaming,
sodden, lost, aimless, roaming,
thirty days, cloud-smeared rain.
Insane.

Remembering now Water Row,
old road, the ancient overflow,
staring at icy flood-fed river.
Shiver.

Sun climbs, eastern sky, my mind,
bright, radiant, eyes nearly blind,
face-beseeching warmth, gold beehive.
Revive.

 

After a month of rain.
July 2, 2009

 



All written material © Bill Schechter, 2016
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