Get Your Premium Membership

Cutting the Surfaces

Rain through the trees 
and the wind makes horizontal 
waves of drops. Near where I stand, little 

seas have formed that drown the 
green and brown weeds that have 
slipped through the cracked land.

Now light of clearing sky
floats on these glass-like bodies
that splattered 

and gathered before the Sun's burning 
pushed its light into golden shards, 
cutting the surfaces.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Post Comments
Please Login to post a comment

A comment has not been posted for this poem. Encourage a poet by being the first to comment.