One Slip in a Fall Down a Mountain: REVISED


I am waiting for a bus.

I hear

Echoing

Scribble-scrabble

Rock fall.

The Irregular Parabola

Distant.

Leaping,

Bounding

Down, ever downward Leaping Rag-Doll.

A Million innocuous moments

Shatter

The lives

Of People,

Strangers to me, not present to see.

It gains Control momentarily

Then

Arcing

Crashing

Flipping.

Taking to the air, then meeting scree.

Part of the mountain.

Part of its neighbour

Sky.

Published by

The Sleepcoat League

Armchair anthropologist, sometime scribe, freelance philosopher, amateur artist, part-time poet, musical maven, alliteration aficionado.

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