Wednesday, June 22, 2016

John Swain- A Poem

Over the Sorrel

I lie down in the winds
of the ridgeline
where the mountain exposed
a face of shining quartz
to the enigmatic sky.

The clear water sounds,
the croak of the raven,
then the coming of thunder
into the empty
and I am the same mind.

In the now a half-sky rain,
another life,
I return to the balsam
and the birch, to be alive
and to go the way of the mountain,
skin to skin, to horse
to wind, her earth.

John Swain lives in Louisville, Kentucky. Least Bittern Books published his second collection, Under the Mountain Born.

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