After heat, heavy rain.
Syrupy mud edges down
hill toward the pond,
as frogs serenade the wind.
The only thing darker
than water is the battered elm.
I am opening to the night
like a suitcase half empty
on a foreign bed.
The only thing I can think
of now is the road,
how it winds away,
flowing through the trees.
Steve Klepetar lives in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. His work appears regularly in Verse-Virtual. He is the author of fourteen poetry collections, including The Li Bo Poems and My Father Teaches Me a Magic Word.
No comments:
Post a Comment