The weeping willows waves
With their withes in the wind;
The moss-grown hills sweep past,
Disordering emotions and splashes.
Leaning to the foot of a rocky cliff,
My raft runs rapidly in between
The boulders and sharp stones --
I have delivered myself over
Into the hands of Providence.
Rain tramples down the rosy mist
While lonesome cuckoo counts down
My time of threading through the rapids:
One after another, and then. . .
My raft and I make one falling stream.
I've been there; done that. Your poem reminds me of the time I did rafting thru the rapids in Montenegro, a truly wild experience. Needless to say, enjoyed your poem immensely.
A book of nature inspired poems and essays, written from the heart and soul of a life-long nature, animal, and wilderness lover, and dedicated to today’s children - Earth's only hope for a better tomorrow.
This book won 'The Poetry Category'
A book of nature inspired poems and essays, written from the heart and soul of a life-long nature, animal, and wilderness lover, and dedicated to today’s children - Earth's only hope for a better tomorrow.
This book won 'The Poetry Category'
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