Exhaustive Meandering

Across water soaked meadow to the foot of limestone,

the rush of too much water, and the sound of decisions

taken by rocks unbidden, a mile and more above

as the little hut slumps and the young man wonders

and waits as the dark gathers and stretches across

bearing out the promise of high places, and the whisper

of snowfall across gentian and grasses

and the sudden cacophony of a thousand birds

makes him feel more alone than at a funeral

hearing the lament of old women rise, like the odour of dust

on a workshop windowsill.

 

via Daily Prompt: Amble

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