The Manzanita

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Wane

The path lies stark and clear.
No one else is here.

The horizon glows magenta, spent.
I hear a voice on the wind

now and then, a woman's, tense.
I steer by the morning star.

My heel slides off leaves.  Dense
shade -- rows of maple retreat as far

as my eyes can see.  Blue white fear
and my heart starts as I grow near.
Posted by williamrobertway at 4:23 PM No comments:
Email ThisBlogThis!Share to XShare to FacebookShare to Pinterest
Newer Posts Older Posts Home
Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)

Otherwhere

  • Open Mic Directory
  • Poetry Foundation
  • Accepting Submissions

Blog Archive

  • ►  2019 (1)
    • ►  April (1)
  • ►  2017 (1)
    • ►  August (1)
  • ►  2015 (14)
    • ►  October (1)
    • ►  August (1)
    • ►  April (2)
    • ►  March (7)
    • ►  February (1)
    • ►  January (2)
  • ►  2014 (54)
    • ►  December (5)
    • ►  November (2)
    • ►  October (5)
    • ►  September (1)
    • ►  August (2)
    • ►  July (2)
    • ►  June (4)
    • ►  May (6)
    • ►  April (4)
    • ►  March (6)
    • ►  February (6)
    • ►  January (11)
  • ▼  2013 (88)
    • ►  December (10)
    • ►  November (4)
    • ►  October (19)
    • ►  September (6)
    • ►  August (3)
    • ▼  July (1)
      • Wane
    • ►  June (2)
    • ►  May (20)
    • ►  April (5)
    • ►  March (3)
    • ►  February (4)
    • ►  January (11)
  • ►  2012 (80)
    • ►  December (5)
    • ►  November (8)
    • ►  October (21)
    • ►  August (8)
    • ►  July (4)
    • ►  June (4)
    • ►  May (7)
    • ►  April (23)

About Me

williamrobertway
View my complete profile
Picture Window theme. Powered by Blogger.