Tuesday, January 23, 2018

poem of the day January 23


Me and My Sidekick
were hunting for
the perfect icicle
not the ones that
grow on houses
but the ones alive 
living in meadow streams
I sent him down 
before the culvert
where we spotted
them lined up like 
frozen soldiers
on a maple branch
that bridged the water
on either side of 
sugar house stream
He brought back
a perfect dagger
that glistened
in the afternoon sun
the taste was Nirvana
We both agreed
it was very very good
this natural mix
of water and wood

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