It came out of Eldon,
touching, tearing, ripping
trees, roofs, indiscriminate
in its favoring or rending.
It arrived unexpected,
thirty miles later, hills and bluffs,
the expected buffer, failed to deter.
Walls that once met, met
no longer. Roots meant to anchor
kissed the sky, their farthest
extremities kissing the earth.
It didn’t stay long. Why would it?
After crossing the muddy river
it returned to its true home, the sky.
About the Poet
Ken Gierke started writing poetry in his forties, but found new focus when he retired. It also gave him new perspectives, which come out in his poetry, primarily in free verse and haiku. He has been published at Vita Brevis, Tuck Magazine, The Ekphrastic Review, Amethyst Review, and Eunoia Review. His work can be found at his blog.