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.
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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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