The river rapids are swollen, gushing with Spring’s anticipation;

my gaze sweeps upwards beyond the falls and spray.

I’m elevated, suspended somewhere above the rocks,

the deafening noise and the surge and the fury.

I’m hung there, numbed senseless by my creative drought,

whilst the clapping echo of the pregnant Mississippi

dances through my soul’s cavity, pulling at my empty thoughts.

I moisten my lips with the spray, then turn the corner of Mill Street

to retrieve my daily bundle of flyers and bills from the post office.

– Chris George

(ed. – This poem was written in Spring 2013, since our family’s move to Almonte. It is one poem in a compilation of verse just released under the title of Midstep – A dozen poems towards where I want to be. To get your copy of Midstep, contact chrisg.george@gmail.com.) 

MIDSTEP – A dozen poems towards where I want to be