Woods (a poem)

Watching a Japanese drama on Netflix…

At the top of Tragic Lovers Hill
the tall, tall trees
hide angry owls

The bridge that crosses the stream
waits, empty, for the uncertain
and the hesitant

Unconcerned, the water flows on
towards the bottom of the hill
it takes lovers so long to climb

aching lungs gasping for air
in the cold of the evening
Clouds form

(11 July 2016)

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