The Place

ManwitaPlan

Advice, criticism and feedback greatly appreciated:

There is, or was, a place

Rain, storm or wind doesn’t

Lacerate the earth there carelessly

It serves it like a surgeon

While the trees, rivers, grass and sand sleep

Product of fallen palette

Window pane raindrop rivers

run a downhill marathon

the finish line for the benefit of

only one and all

Mayfly hang motionless

A buffet for rising brook trout

Other flies breathe fire

Yet remain defenceless

Destruction of such exquisiteness

Was never so exceptionally passable

And what a shadow the sand

Cuts at its end

So carefree and fire light

Next to the dark, dank

Copper of river bed and banks

And the tight green blanket

So restricting in its hold

Gives way to light blue fleece

Eyes, thank god, have prospect again

But it all fits

Holding all the mystery and skill

Of a ship in a bottle

So sad it will never divulge or yield

To flesh and bone

So sad and yet mater hand comforting