The tributary flows free at both extremes,
and yet I doubt which direction carries me.
The mountaintops wrap themselves in clouds,
find comfort in the sharpness of each gouge.
The deserts blaze in flares of orange and red;
defying drought, the heat of what’s ahead.
The lakes of glacier stretch, yawn in afternoon;
wink and tip their hat at verse I groom.
Everything else, I’ll learn to dissolve it all;
I make myself relive and then recall.
When I’m lonely,
you are the only.
When I’m still as sadness,
you burst with gladness.
When I’m buried in doubt,
you shovel and shout, shovel and shout.
Everything else,
I don’t need to carry that through.
Everything else,
I bequeath to all of you.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
a glorious paean to nature and its healing properties 🙂
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Thank you, John. 🙂 My first late night, no edit write. Might be this red bottle I’m soloing but it was nice to pen.
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I allow myself a few glasses of red most nights; always helps — if not poetry, sleep 🙂
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I loved the shovel and shouting to get you out of your buried state. Clever.🙂
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Morning, thank you kindly.
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Moirning, KK. Sounds devoted!.
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Wine writing is very, very solemn, or so it seems.
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I have never tried writing under the influence of anything, maybe that is the answer?
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Nope, don’t think so…..:) But, feel free to experiment on you own. On the other hand, the no sulfate, bio wine seems to produce less headache when a the day after. In case you’re wondering….
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Keep yourself topped up, huh/. Sounds like a plan.
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Not in daylight…that would be scandalous. But, the bottle needed to be aerated and then there was just no need to recork it once it decanted, right?
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I heard they were buggers to get back in!
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the lakes of glacier–lovely stanza!
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Thank you, Sascha. I appreciate your kind comment.
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