The clouds roll in, pass over, and move on,
From whence and to what end we rarely see. Betimes, in tarrying, they weep upon The sad, parched earth beneath before they flee To break along the lofty mountain berm, And spill their vital force ere forcing past To wisp on wearily, spent out, infirm, And toss their tatters cross the deserts vast. From exhalation of the brimming deep To castaway, forsaken on the sand, The daughters of the waters surge and sleep In endless sacrifice to plumb the land; In bleeding streams forever bearing back Adrift their ventures' wage of dust, in wrack. |
Whither
from Forth into Silence : Poems, 1st ed., Mar. 2017.
1st web edition posted 3/23/2017.
Published by Fleabonnet Press.
©
2014-2017 by
Brian Kunde.