A Flow Chart
"Oh that this too,too solid flesh would thaw
And resolve itself into a dew"
Water slips through our fingers ,so fresh and sweet
Yet a solid mass will smash all before it
Where scree sits,solid on the slopes,
Dislodged it will sweep down,wave after wave,
A sea of stones
That blanket of snow off piste lying still
Shudders into life thundering
With oceanic power
Drowning all in its path
How solid is cold metal until molten
And then its white hot stream
Spits and scalds and settles
Into its mould
Copyright © Denis Bruce | Year Posted 2017
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