Spirit Island

The spirit of the island;

Where snow blankets mountains;

Where wisps of weather shroud their peaks;

Where paintbrush pines daub their bristles on the sky;

Where we gaze at their reflection in the mirror lake;

Where we cannot see what canvas lies beyond;

Where a lazy log peeks at the scene;

Where stepping boulders shatter the glass;

Where the reflections ripple;

Where an eagle screams a greeting and leaves;

Where we press our footprints in the muddy bank;

Where the silver water wipes their memory;

Where there now is silence;

Where only our spirits remain and wonder.




Tags: poetry