Monday, September 29, 2014

"Late September on the Russian River" by John E. Smelcer

"An Autumnal Sunset On the Russian River" by William Keith, 1878

The trees turn, suddenly,
as dawn rolls up what night unwound--
their slender necks
like tundra swans in shallow ponds.

There is no comforting chill
in the gray air,
only a screed of birds
scrawled on a bare sky.

Fog arrives in the narrow valley,
gray wings cupped like snow geese
landing between deserted stars
in morning's porcelain light.

A trout waves in a shadow
across smooth stone,
and while I watch, a bear--sleek and black--
crosses the river and fades off winterward.

No comments:

Post a Comment