Tuesday, December 9, 2008

Kirsty Karkow: A HOUSEWIFE’S COMPLAINT


It could be that there is a hole nearby, its entrance hidden by untended grasses. And time, like a steady limpid stream, is flowing into its depths never to surface again. The sun no sooner rises, than it yields to afternoon, then twilight hurries into darkness. Our planet, seemingly, spins faster with each year I walk the earth and swim the rising seas.

hermit monks said
be quiet in the moment
slow down—
did they manage hectic days
and myriad things to do?


by Kirsty Karkow
Waldoboro, Maine

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