Friday, September 23, 2016

Weekly Worded

From the Top 

looking down
it’s impossible to say

with any certainty, 
there’s my house.

Climb higher and clouds 
obscure the town.

Look again
at the dirt road 

switchbacked into 
the mountain.

A plume of dust 
rises like smoke 

from a bridge 
you can't remember burning.


No comments: