Tuesday, 25 August 2015

TO LINGER By Bob Paris

This hank of life that waits on none
More than a glance shimmered across
Wire and coupling that hold a heart such
As mine together along switchback trails
Into clouds that ring mountaintop and down
Among volcanic coolness held in a whispered
Fault line that bears no image of fault
Or reason or impulse or single explanation
Nor belief nor doors flung open by wind
Made visible and haunting inside
Swirls round to find a mind unstilled
By steady race of pulse and blood and light
And pause in which to linger

By Bob Paris © 8.25.2015