my route
was a scar
up the face
of a cliff
rising over 
a forest
but soon 
there was only 
one spot
for my feet
(or my hands)
and there 
on that stone 
there was 
coiled 
a black snake 
and sensing 
my presence
she hissed
and she squirmed
but I had 
no agenda 
and she had 
after all
 prior claim
to that stone
so I then backed away
to seek
a new route
and I left her 
in peace
with her scars
gw2011
 
 
If that had been me I would have fallen off Gwilym. Like the way you have made the poem snake-like in shape - reminded me of Edwin Morgan's wonderful poem Heron.
ReplyDeletegood follow up to previous photo
ReplyDeleteLiked how the lnes are so short, just how brain and breath would work in the situation.
ReplyDeleteExcellent.....Thanks.....
ReplyDeletePat, Gerald, Gordon, Satyapal, many thanks for your comments. Much appreciated! Gwilym.
ReplyDelete