"Writing, to me, is like kayaking a river. You are paddling down, and you come to a walled-off canyon, and you make a sharp turn, and you don't know what's around the corner. It could be a waterfall, it could be a big pool. The narrative current carries you. You're surprised, and you're thrilled, and sometimes you're terrified." - Peter Heller
because we’ve never met. I originally wrote this 26 years ago & this poem is an updated version of the earlier one (the only difference is the 3rd stanza). I didn't want to give the wrong impression.
chill
of the
morning’s dew
runs
through me Leaves
dampened
slipping
beneath
my feet Falling
deeply
into a ravine Feebly
calling
out
for you The wind’s
invisible
presence
Answers me You Are Not There
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Post Note: An imaginary troll under a bridge inspired this poem. The above photo's were captured while on my hike this morning. I hope you enjoy the poem ☺