Day Hike

terrain unknown

and powerful steep,

I journey. . .

forgotten language
of maps

torn in two

and crumpled into crannies

–a new kind of nonsense


hooded I–

shiver under sweat

find pocks


by touch,

gaze fixed to

sparkling mirage


–neither God, nor Son, but mine–

reflecting from shattered


About Charron's Chatter

I bring to you an arrow, whole, Use it, or break it, But if you choose to take it --Know-- With it also, I will go. © Karen Robiscoe @1992

Comments are closed.