Cochran Shoals (Writercize 191)
The road runs along it's path
Ending at the car park
Runners ramble along the ruins
Of the old paper mill.
Slapping sounds of spawn
Working their way along the bank
Fluid flowing to carry them
To the fisherman wading there.
Squirrel stares down at me
Sitting on my bench
Taking in the promenade
Of humanity healing their souls.
It sounds absolutely perfect. Thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteWonderful poem and picture to go with it!
ReplyDeleteThanks for stopping by.
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