|| A Grasping Hand|
|| Christopher W. Thomas (firstname.lastname@example.org) |
|| Mon Jan 3, 19100 at 8:47PM |
A Grasping Hand
Out of the eerie, misty, still haze ...
From the lake's ice, warming to the days
Comes an apparition, unique to eye
A grasping hand, reaching up to the sky
The branch lies so still upon the glass
Emerging from underneath - a mask ...
A face in the mushy, white, snow-capped sheet
An image of a shattered soul being beat
And as the melting ice's vapors rise ...
Defused by sun's rays (a quiet surprise)
Peeking out from layers of dark stillness
The branch suddenly wobbled (a near miss)
For the hand which reached out, up to the sky
Then turned on its axis, and stood quite high
And then the hand slowly dropped right out of view
Becoming immersed in the murky pond's glue
And the face which'd been so clearly etched
Opened its mouth with lips wide stretched
As the soul way beneath the water's glassy crust
Suddenly belched, tossing up the icy truss ...
© Christopher W. Thomas
4:45pm Mon. Jan. 3rd, 2000