of midlife is cut
off from
the full meander of
my days across this
earth-place.
Left to less than
it has been
by the rushing flood
of constant change
calling me away
from the well worn
bed of my days.
There is a circuitousness
to the love between geology
and our souls. A way
we come full round to seeing
what and where we have been
and how we have become.
A flood pushes through
a sidewinding branch,
carving new routines
into the foundation of
our bedrock.
copied from:
No comments:
Post a Comment