Too easily
the head rolls
to the valleys,
below the wind,
to stick
in the bog,
unable to dodge
the eyes
glowing in the thickness.
But sometimes,
climb,
store energy,
see the world
above the fog,
and listen
to the languages
that we seek
but are not yet spoken.
Robert L. Jackson III
This was written for the Poets United blog midweek motif on energy.
