A Poem a Day in October 2016: #4

the voice that’s in my head
is the sound of the creek
swollen to white water
pushing pushing
rushing rushing

a rumbling roar

but here
the flash that struck my eye
is the shine of the sun
sliding down the rock face
as water
on granite
and the moment of joy
is the butterflies
over and over

around me
as though I were nothing
of note

just another part of the day
like the meltwater sound
of springtime


© Frank Prem, 2016

Poem #5: the old man’s pigeons


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