Wednesday, September 24, 2008

we reach the summit
as we crest the hill
the ground
becomes slippery
under our feet

I reach out
and with the awful clarity
of a moment
frozen in time
I realize that
I am grasping
at dandelions--
tenuous and insubstantial


TACParent said...

Wow. I love how you captured just as you crest the hill it gets slippery. It's like we think we've made it and then begin to slip again -- holding onto anything that might help us stay there and move forward.

Dymphna (4HisChurch) said...


Poems © Gemma W. Wilson