53 – THE EDGE

Call lands end
a sheer cliff fall
some hundreds feet straight
down to sculptured rocks
smooth pebbles, scratching sand,
the surf, sea…
we think land begins
as sea ceases.

Lifes geography misses such precision.

When was the first notice
of our own desert?
When more dune than hill?
More sun than shade?
Was the sensing the commencing?
No.
A child lost in woods.
The fact precedes the feeling
and now,
the throat is parched,
lips, cracking…
and the sun…
Oh! God!
The sun.

About Ken Greenman

Married and Happy. Retired and busy. Living in NC. 71 and counting. December 12, 2020 and it's 72! ... I would love some written comments, critiques, adulation or kind suggestions.... If you have the time and or inclination, please feel free! Not in fear but by faith. We will see. See you later! If you ever want to talk for real, email me and I will send you my cell number.... I am enjoying this!
This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s