Two people stood alongside
the empty canyon highway,
embracing against the new snow,
frozen there like dead bulrushes,
upright reeds in the mud.
Drifting leaves curled up
like hollowed-out canoes
over the glassy river,
meandering its slow feminine curves.
And they stiffly watched,
apathetic sticks,
clasped together coldly
in the dying sagebrush.
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4 comments:
Nice honey bun! Sounds cold but so complete with a warm embrace.
Matt, that is a great poem. Sheesh, I doubt you want someone to analyze it, especially a physics guy who knows nothing about english. But it hit me pretty good, and I want to say so. I feel like the "apathetic stick" sometimes, involved in something great like love and nature, but surrounded by mud and dead canoes of the crushed lives, so I just put up a front without emotion.
I know this feeling.
Were they real, or an apparition of rock and stone? I ask because of the title. So beautifully put, real or no. Where were you when you saw this? Your awesome travels leave me breathless and vicariously seeing through your eyes.
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