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