Sunday, August 1, 2010

How the Hills

How the hills have been

lifting their skirts

to this gauzy can can

and sunlight blazes

streaks and streams

down through the clouds.

All is blue and gold and rimmed with silver.

Just one pink violent slash

and I go twisting

through the break neck moss

to the place that is

wet sister to our valley.

Fires burn by the side of the road,

creeping like feuds.

Dead gums gather and reach.

A round moon chases me in

up river.

A cattle dog runs me out.

No comments:

Post a Comment