Small canyons
touched so near in cloistered scene
life beyond is known
through shadows cast
and life windows merely hinted at
a season quiet now
as river rolls in chorus with the wind
in trees
hear and see a past
the loud of boiling colored waters run
when all is strewn and thrown in
rivers rage
now left to bake in summer’s sun
a testament to seasons tread this
wild rivers bed.
Stephen Stavast |