Short Meeting With Eternity
SHORT MEETING WITH ETERNITY
Gentle, murmuring, lapping,
Coolly caressing my feet,
The flow of the Volga
From her misty upper reaches
Down into the dry sand
Below my feet, loosening
The tight-packed mass,
Dissolving the firm lines
Of footprints, washing marks
From bygone meetings clear,
Rolls past my legs,
Gliding down to lower reaches
Without effort, instinct-guided
Searching the best way
To her goal in the south
And in the warm red sky
Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2010
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