Wednesday, July 4, 2012

The Present Moment

Fresh daylight shines
On a small, hand painted sign
Sticking out of the wild grass.


Beside the sign
There's a crude log bench
For meditating on the view

And the monotone thrum
Of the invisible river
Falling down to the lake forever.

Miles behind the sign,
The tops of the trees
Climb the opposite side.

No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.