Monday, 7 December 2020

Free Form Poem No.5


The dangling drip

Suspended loosely

At the bottom of

The thawing icicle—

Nature's whim

The droplet of icey

Water swaying most

Gently along the 

Rounded tip—

At times

About to give way

To the earth's great

Void but then

Not yet,

Not yet—


The biting wind

Doth come and,

Congealed, the

Glistening spike

Was but alone.



See available wood sculptures in detail here:

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