19 January 2017

The bridge


The bridge spans the stream between
fields of flowers and muddy trails.

I wish I'd caught the pixels—
pointilliste perspectives and a vanishing point.

Grey wood and keeling beams,
frogs by the saponated stream
creaking unseen.

I seek Your images
to keep forever
on my screen.

Flowers wink
in the falling light.
Frogs in the grey grass
creak unseen.

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