Portage
I trace a path between the rocks, jagged cold and grey
that whip the waves into a froth; tea-like tannin stain
Is this a place that we can pass, safe, Or should we stay?
For rapids, falls, and tangled logs, have thwarted us along the way
We’ve pulled the ropes, despite no hope, down paths of constant change
And now we go on one last float, to salvage a tired day.
Copyright © Justin Clason | Year Posted 2022
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment