Tuesday, May 11, 2010

The River Side

Low on the hillside, east of the great river.
Digger women stand wast deep in black mud.
Shoulder their baskets.
Ascending the river walls dark edge.
Level the slope.
They meet, Imagined more than seen.
Out from the split where buffalo graze,
horses chest deep in switch grass.
Twilight-lit columns.
Hammered out of frozen moon, 
Silver lances cut the sky.
Fearful as a rat in the pythons coils.

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