cars, trucks, buses and
bicycles all have wheels that go round and round,
round and round, over snow, ice, asphalt, gravel
but only the last glides over this narrow bridge,
a whiff of fresh ice floats into my nostrils
the view fills my eyes and ears, the beauty
and the gentle sound of water rushing over
melting ice, each piece bobbing slightly as
it releases from its parent, wavering
in the ripple as if sad to say good-bye.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment