Desolation in the Spring

The stark reflection of my rocky peak
is revealed on the pools below—I want
to turn away. There is nowhere to hide
until the clouds roll in. The sunlight
loosens your grip on me: you melt,
trickling in diverging directions
to where the salamanders copulate
in the slow swirling waters. Did you tire
of our quiet repose? I feel
the impression of our final embrace
evaporating, diluted into
obscurity by the waters into which
you flow. You ease so carelessly
into the arms of the creek bed that lures
you away. I want to remove the river rocks
and hurl them over the ridge. Why did you
leave me exposed? Soon the rains will come.
 

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