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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