Sidney Beck Poet Free verse

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

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