The river

brushes
the rocks
a brazen flirtation

and pouts
in the afternoon sun.  

Turtles stoic
on opposite ends
of a beaver-felled log

ruby throats

the passion

in the river 
their beating hearts audible. 

(c)  2011.

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 25th, 2011 at 8:48 pm and is filed under David's Blog. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.