Monday, March 09, 2009


On the Passed Time River
that winds through here,
near the point where it burbles
over Lost Day Rocks
and just before the Don't-Give-Up Falls;
the lazy floating,
the grayed head barely raised
to regard a west-slipping sun,
the faint cry from shore,
the rising mists of the maelstrom ahead,
the No-Going-Back Rapids,
the frail craft almost awash
in too late, too late.
The regrettable lack of a paddle.
- Ralph Murre


Bruce Hodder said...

You wrote my life, Ralph.

Ralph Murre said...

Most of our lives, I'm afraid -- or, at least, the lives of most of us grumpy, old writerly types.