The Spring Circle, poetry by Meg Smith at

The Spring Circle

The Spring Circle

written by: Meg Smith



The water runs low and reveals
naked rocks, long strands in
the yellowed grass of winter.
I had once looked from this bridge
in search of a home, in search of
a place to fashion a family from
lonely clay. No sun, no room
of high ceilings, could hold me.
I have not cast out all I have loved.
I have put out my arms to draw them in,
if only in the chill of fast-moving clouds.

Latest posts by Meg Smith (see all)