swifts  &  s l o w s · a quarterly of crisscrossings

autochthon
Greg Frohring

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autochthon

perfect lines stand
stretching frost of a seashore
curving wind cliffs
along an ocean windowpane

met someone with eyes pondering
a hundred years or more
chasing cloud statue sunsets for hours
into twilight thoughtfulness

running wind dry blue woman
pastel sky eyes focus so beautiful
caught like a sandstorm you just sat down
hurling dust and tumbleweeds and cried

Rain pouring fell in love
on you because an
entire sky became so clear
a thousand miles fragile

and snow steel hiked
thunder water alone
wind mountains fall
fire or spring

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greg frohring – writer and poet by night, multiple degrees, multiple publications, software architect and developer, amateur musician, wave enthusiast. Keep writing – we will take turns – winning in this sense is subjective: competition a blight. Keep writing; continue growing in knowledge and compassion (always with, never to). Keep writing.