Monday, August 08, 2011
Poetry Cavalcade 3: Aspens
From the floor of that desert
You never would guess
That up on those mountains
Green aspens await.
A waterfall, even,
The snow melting off,
Clean, cold and urgent
Coursing towards sand.
You must climb to get there
The air might get thin
But first, imagine that forest
While still among waste.
