He’s a glacial mind
ploughing roughshod overland
shearing hilltops
pushing rude boulders
polishing craggy granite and we
are the moraine in his wake.

About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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2 Responses to Fragment

  1. hypercryptical says:

    Clever. I wonder who you are writing about… :o]
    Anna :o]

  2. Had to look up moraine — what an absolutely beautiful word! The whole poem’s beautiful, really. Especially dig the image of ‘shearing hilltops.’

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