rolling

a light bulb moment,
every once in a great while:

recollection of past wings,
clipped;
remembrance of things,
slipped;

and a crick in my neck
from looking over
a time-worn shoulder;

and I realize that
all my bright ideas,
end-to-end

won't help me with
this hill
or this boulder.



March 19, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.