Poem: Current

By:  Richard Luftig

A river needs descent of an eighth of an inch per mile to produce a flow, and if that is the case, our river probably fails—Henry David Thoreau

current

This river has nowhere special
to go and all the time to do it.
Now it is late autumn and still
it struggles to move, shake itself

loose, get its dead logs
downstream before the first
grips of winter grab hard
upon the land. And we

too stuck in this drive-by
town, this fly-over State,
need to keep current,
collect the twigs and branches

of rumors, kindling really,
for the best gossip that allows
us to stoke the fires
of our February lives.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s