The bridge, a
languid cat,
arches the
creek;
The amber water flows in endless haste.
The trees, stern sentinels, ignore the waste,
Yet for their
well groomed
look her bounty
seek.
The sloping
banks with
fragrant
moisture reek,
Frail bits of vine about the ground form lace.
The bridge, a
languid cat,
arches the
creek;
The amber water
flows in endless
haste.
The sky, a sea,
with stars like
sail boats
sleek,
Reflections in the stream a pattern trace
Of street lights, should the clouds but hide the face
Of stars.
Yet from the
water sparks
would peek.
The bridge, a
languid cat,
arches the
creek;
The amber water
flows in endless
haste.
--Nora Coots. |