The river is at its banks, willing
spring with sheer force and for the first
time, I can see the hills lit up
in the pallid end of winter’s grip;
clouds hang lazy in a pink-tinged
yellow sunset lighting up
spires of churches and dusty
smokestacks, factories in full blaze.
Mangled branches pierce the horizon
pushing fingertips of new green, a promise
of life to bring us a much needed bounty
if only we could wait that long.
Aleathia Drehmer 2008
Published by Kendra Steiner Editions 5/08
No comments:
Post a Comment