Midweek Muse: A scattering of names

“The poet’s job is to find a name for everything…”  – Jane Kenyon

 

That small space of rocky soil

between the wooden bench

and the stream: this too

shall remain

nameless

***

stream

the way water wears
a scar into rock, s-shaped
and ever rolling

***

snowshoe tracks

across the pond:

walking on water

***

 parenthetical

parenthetical
cats, passed out
by the fire

***

spidering across

pond ripples

one smooth stone

***

 waterfall

backyard waterfall

the day after the world was

supposed to end

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