Does the poem flow well c/c Please?

Kendell Lake

Filled with indecision

my backpack:

shiny blue boulder lashed to my body

strap sawing my left shoulder

folly thudding against my kidneys.


crashing through the brush

mine is the only noise:

the headwaters flow silent as warm wax.

Black earth molds itself to the pattern of my boot

to fall away on the following step

Downhill the river races

stumbling over stones

between the trees reflected sky repeats the foaming water

kettle at rolling boil, spray rises, steam .

Cooler now, level, oars as spoons stir the lake.

Swimming allowed from the small, gritty beach

blue and white floats bob in water dark as twilight.

My cotton shirt soaked, there is one final hill

I climb, the lake disappearing in lengthening shadows.

Reaching the empty road near the crest

I follow the curve with my eye.

From a distance the hill wears the road like a shawl

I the errant thread.


Yes, I love your unique images that you painted here.

keep writing

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