five steps

turning
the corner
slowly
she was not there
as oft times before
staring thought-filled
into the dawdling Dodder

today
the sun
also
was hidden
by darkening clouds
flowing o'er
the Dublin mountains

weir wet
heron hunting
shy wren
flit flying
from bank
to bank
as you

I view
the heron
at her post
ne'er deep
midst rapid
rolling rills

this year
is almost
spent and
I seek her
lost ne'er
found beside
our brazen brook



Poetry by Peter Humphreys
Read 788 times
Written on 2007-12-27 at 19:38

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