River Poem by Christopher Withers
River
routine habituation:
water sleeps, seeps, streams along.
valley holds:
a sleep of least resistance.
cold numbed, land locked,
the river holds (no expectation) .
land lost, and the view.
form becomes preconception.
but the few, only the few,
break free.
gusting, on rising air:
view cracks.
and all, from before,
from slumbering gait,
sleeping wait
is gone.
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4/23/2024 6:29:10 PM # 1.0.0.1119
the peace of a flowing river is most therapudical, the serenity that flows here is great, nice piece