Posted on December 15, 2017
by Elan Mudrow
As sure as our feet hold
To the firm ground
Winds remind us of
The shape of our bones.
A beautiful malformation
Decorated, stretched arms
Scuffs, polished into reflection.
The sun is fast.
The river, a worm.
Category: PoetryTags: Blog, Life, Love, Photography, Poem, Poetry, Writing
Reblogged this on THE DAYDREAMER.
Scuffs polished into reflections…I love that Elan. I see it in the scab lands further east of the photo you posted, but never really saw it until you shared this. Nice!
wow this is beautiful
Masterful writing, Elan. (And thank you for sharing the photo. I’ve been wondering what was left there after the fire.)
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Wish I was relieved to hear it. Suppose dams are necessary too.
Thanks. You understand the non literal uses of the phrase!!
Yes, I understand, but the Columbia’s rapids went with all the dams. To the left of the photo, a few miles is the river’s first dam. Bonneville. Woody Guthrie was hired by them to write songs about the river. We used to have to sing them in grade school. Thanks!!
Amazing word picture of a tree with a stark photo. Beautiful artistry.
Beautifully written – images and words.
I especially like how you ended it. “the sun is fast, the river a worm”
There’s some kind of melody to it, one that I can’t seem to get out of my head. I really enjoyed this!
Wow! There sure holds some great memories.
I’m intrigued with the area of the river been known for rapids but no longer. Must be global warming? I see the waterfall close by me here dwindling seriously. We’ve been blessed with rain so it’s a bit better now.
Wondrous imagery in every word.
Really Well Done! HAPPY HOLIDAYS!
Thanks. I grew up swimming in it. There’s no more white water. The area I photographed used to be called the “great chute”, a mile long rapids.
very nice. ‘the river a worm’, guess only from way up high.
Across the river you see in the photo, is where a large forest fire raged just a month ago. That’s partially where the title came from
It was very cold and windy there (Cape Horn, Washington State) yesterday. For a minute or two, I hung onto a tree trunk on the edge of a cliff, slightly scared, wishing I was sitting next to a cozy fire. Fortunately, there was a lull in the gusts.
Sitting here beside a warm fire watching snowflakes feather in and out of view. Your poem has wisked me away…Beautiful imagery
Love the title as much as the poem!
Image and words, wonderful journey Elan.
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