By Toni Truesdale
The
transparent lingering ghosts of animals
Still drink
some days at the moving water
Washed clean
by the steep, annual monsoonal rains.
Inside the
world within these timeless pools
Tiny fish
dart between the rounded glowing stones,
Green vines
pulse with the movement of flow and wind
As insects
gleam on the surface.
Each day
reflections those before and after,
Holy Ghost
Creek.
ToniTruesdale.com
Copyright
T.Truesdale 2012
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