Leaves fall, the wind
no longer chained runs wild
a mad dog on the loose
Cerberus is laughing
underneath it all.
It all falls down, a branch
below my foot, a leaf
onto the ground, a raindrop
onto dry cheekbones
“where are you going? ”
the wind says with a laugh
“and what will you do
when you get there? ”
A hammered nail,
a foot pressed
to the ground
is not falling.
I press on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This really struck a chord Ben - having pressed on for 26 miles earlier this yr! brought back memories of early morning training runs - at one with the elements...aware of all that is above, below and beyond...great personification in this exhilarating write. Justine.