Wednesday, February 03, 2016
A Curve Will Bring You Home
02-03-2016 by Teri H Hoover©
For Sunday Whirl #236
The rose will fall to the rill.
And the hand will find its contour.
There above the water,
small bare feet stand upon a benevolent arc.
Sturdy and resilient, the bridge drinks in the song filled air.
Gently goes the fall line in joyous constraint.
Without flair or flourish, accepting each step.
Marooned snugly against a soft eddy of mud and leaves,
the watercourse enfolds the rose.
The earth turns imperceptibly.
Deliberately following oh so carefully.
How to spare each soul?
A tight shadow displaced among the reflections
will drink in the laughter and join the rose.
There is no sign of loss or peril,
no spell to undo.
The world crosses over without condemnation.
Rose, following, line, fall, flair, sign, tight, spell, spare, drink, bridge, right