Friday, March 11, 2011
Seen While Passing A Swamp
by Jim Rapp
Old Stump, you look so lifeless –
leafless, limbless, hinged by a lightning strike,
you are only a third of your former self or less.
At swamp’s edge, leaning, hobo-like,
you seek to fill your cup with nothingness
but cannot rise to drink or hope to hike
beyond the place you occupy
in stubborn rootedness.