The Spring Circle, poetry by Meg Smith at Spillwords.com

The Spring Circle

The Spring Circle

written by: Meg Smith

@MegSmith_Writer

 

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.

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