Saturday, February 18, 2012

Snippets Poem


The clouds hold

in orbit

around this bit

of salty desert.

I see the rain,

warm in the winter

and cool in the summer,

turning hillsides green,

yet I stay anchored

in thirst.

The warm air

taunted the lilies

to unravel too soon

and they withered

beneath necklaces of ice,

their yellow sagging petals

randomly mangled

yet still following sequentially

in waves of winter wind.

The brass turns brown

on the mechanical clock

but its solar and lunar

timing holds true.

I wind its innards

and lift the weights

against gravity

that drives the cycles.

-Robert L. Jackson

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