A Snag in Things

This poem  was published in Third Wednesday Fall 2010

The snag in things

This Autumn yielded just enough.

I have cast my line into the gritty spasm.

I listen closely

to the tone of the ripple that is made.

Together we are the ivy that goes

burning up the wall outside my window.

Between the crests my hook gets caught. 

I think about the snag in things.

Nothing is accomplished.

A shimmer bends just out of sight.

The slightest of new thoughts heave

like dying embers from the push of a breath.