By F.S. Blake
Swollen riverbanks
carry branches to new ground
I drift but don’t sink.
Next year could be worse,
another autumn of pain,
but hopefully peace.
No more ornaments,
after this year’s Christmas days
they stay packed away.
Bathed in dreamy light,
I am alone on a beach,
joined by my new dreams.
weekend after next
maybe we go ice skating
till then we can text
F.S. Blake is a Bronze Star decorated U.S. Army Veteran and Pushcart Prize nominated poet. He is a published photographer, traveler, advanced SCUBA diver, philanthropist, entrepreneur, and proud husband and father. He has poems published or forthcoming in The Military Review, Welter at University of Baltimore, San Pedro River Review, The Main Street Rag, and others. His chapbooks, Terminal Leave, Above the Gold Fields, and The Few Drops Known are available from Finishing Line Press. His full-length poetry collection, Forever or a Week is forthcoming from Kelsay Books. His poetry career began during his sister’s wedding.
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