Does the poem flow well c/c Please?
Filled with indecision
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.
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