"The time does not know itself."
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
A quick list to poets featured in this issue:
Stones Lining the Higher Bank
Angular, grained, foreign,
trucked in at some developeršs suggestion,
piled they lend the riverbank weight, gravitas, maybe,
maybe hold it in place,
since the whole scene wants to flicker and shift
into a new season, and would, but for these stones,
their faces shadowed, lines stark
against a backdrop of late sun in early spring.
Then is it late or early?
The time does not know itself.
Below, the river rushes past, muddy, in flood,
carrying sand, gravel, childrenšs toys of the summer,
whatever has not been fixed.
Whatever will give itself to the current.
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