Adrift on Winter

Adrift on Winter

Spring is beyond the reach of my voice.
Beg as I might,
I might as well beg for light
in the vacuum of night.
There’s a squelch
in everyone’s voice, a ribbonous whine,

’Enough is enough for liquidous sake!’
but the rain still pours,
and the rivers still rise, filling
the last of the dry with its wet,
and my feet ask if they will ever
feel the dryness of land again.
.
.

Margo’s Tuesday Tryouts: A Sense of Land

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10 thoughts on “Adrift on Winter

    • Thank you, Margo! I was thinking of that long waffling, willowy, whine of my grand-daughter’s when things aren’t going her way. It’s almost like a siren, and it goes on forever and ever and ever …. I’m so glad that she’s usually a happy little girl. ;)

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