Wednesday, November 23, 2016
Rik George writes
I weep for her in quiet hours
When the night is dark and deep
And I’m too sad for restful sleep.
Somewhere an ocean wears its shores,
White surf gnawing at the sands,
Where killdeer scramble up the beach
Beyond the ocean’s tidal reach
Beyond the wavelet’s grasping hands.
Sometimes I think my tears make seas
Salty and full of brine on my pillow
And afterward a quiet sorrow
Gives my grief a brief surcease.
Killdeer [rock painting] -- Lynne Gerard