| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Spiritual >> ID #1462929 |
| |||||||||||||
|
Transition
The snow drops in dashed lines, the flurries flurry in swirls, coming from many points in the sky, somewhere up there is a transition, a point in the moment when moisture turns to crystals— that combined with their neighbors can cave in roofs, can hold up happier skiers, and carpet our lawns with a blanket of pure innocence, that point in space and time . . . prior to the future and just after the past, what would the frozen winter be without it? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This poem is from "Bottle in the River" about a Poet's journey down a river, chasing a bottle tossed by the fingertips of "that I am." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Written within the parameters of the theory of "Multivalence"
© Copyright 2008 Dan Sturn (UN: dansturn at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Dan Sturn has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |