Nothing Crosses the Horizon
A haiku for Heraclitus, "The Obscure"
Rapids mock gusts; tongues,
pervious, spit sparks. Black spreads,
steals—and stays hidden.
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I First Saw Him
When I first saw him sitting on the wall, relaxed and looking out over the water, I was sure he wasn't a local. Not including children, there are only about 250 or 300 of us in this area full-time, though that number is ten-fold in the summer, and I know everyone at least by sight or by family resemblance. And yet, the way he sat looked familiar and started my mind sorting and discarding among the families I knew, not quite like this one, not quite like that one.
By Natalie Wilkinson7 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Another beautiful homage to the great Greeks. :) The cover image is 👌🏻
Great one!! Thanks for writing. I am new around here, can you look at my writings as well and let me know if you liked it. https://vocal.media/poets/blue-moon-ka77gr01qz https://vocal.media/horror/strange-land-part-1