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.

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