The Crossing

I plunged bare feet into the stream
shocking cold
a primal scream

ice water rushes round my thighs
shaking teeth
teary eyes

slippery stones
soaked arm and seat
distant shore
twelve steps to greet

gritting on, a drunken dance
nearly falling
a wobbly stance

so close now, I yell and rant
I want to run but simply can’t
one last lunge

a wet face plant

tio stib, 2015

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3 thoughts on “The Crossing

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