Running behind in posting these, but the creativity continues. Last Sunday I met with my old poetry companions and someone suggested that we each write a riddle poem.
They scatter me
and then cut me down
but I rise again
Bury me in the snow
flood me with the rain
burn me in the sun
still I persevere
and come back
The law tells you to keep off of me
but I really don’t mind
so long as you’re gentle
You can trample me
but not defeat me
I’m the journey-work of the stars
and the hair of graves
(says Uncle Walt)
Under your feet
but supporting your every breath