There are things
I’ve never done,
and this is one –
so I watch you
crouching among
rounded stones
and the sound of
water lapping –
low sounds, I think –
hands flashing, then
cupping, nursing that
tiny spark, clear flame
licking, lapping,
in the winter air.
Sarah writes poems
This is a space for me to write, share my words and play with poetry. You are very welcome here.
Somehow when I’m to close to water at winter I shiver….
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Being wet and cold is much worse than being dry and cold.
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