May 21

comments 3
poetry

Late late morning
a ripple on the lake

a standing wave
or complicated wake

two lizards sunning
themselves

and not much else
to say, calm

and soft here, East
of the mountains

I watch descents:
parasails, quails

the crescent day moon
the onerous ray of sun

and spare a thought
for yours:

did your crampons bite?
did the pack give way? Alone

in the shade of static,
fixed hills, I wonder, and wait.

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