When the snowmelt releases its rivulets

Cold, shining, bearing along a leaf here,

And there an off-cast piece of human living

They run down, over the hills whose heads

Are covered with last year’s

Hair, tall grasses bent and slicked

With a pomade of cold weight: carved

Channels for the water, slipping

Over and among wispy, brittle stalks.



Thanks for reading! Wrote this pretty quickly, but I thought it had a nice rhythm to it so I didn’t do much editing. Let me know what you think in the comments!





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