Aug 9, 2011

Willow Creek

Written by John Savoie

Read by Traci Brimhall

All night the willow sweeps,
but the creek never runs
any cleaner: black water
slaps past spattered rocks;
caught in the snag
one plastic bottle bobs
like the red-tailed hawk
harassed by grackles;
feathers, straw, broken shell
fleck the draggled grass.
All night the eyes rove
under their lids, searching
sheens and shadows, but you
never come any closer.

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