Confrontation Poem by Neil Crawford
Confrontation
Dour Mount Biokova clings, miser-like, to offspring clouds
scornful of encroaching tide, she seems serene
and satisfied.
Smug in her supremacy over this man named, lapping pool
she allows herself sleep's luxury
with no erosion nightmares.
The Adriatic, coldd, glass clear and patient,
grins into quisling bay, quiet in the knowledge
of this joust's eventual victor.
(Makarska, Yugoslavia 1990)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/6/2024 1:40:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
