jdubqca

poetry by j matthew waters

outside of the foothold


mushroom hunting & collecting
stones on a sunny
sunday morning

the river runs through this place
you can hear it from
a mile or so away
you can feel it in your veins
your eyes gradually
become clearer

the stones go in the satchel
the mushrooms
in a bucket
luckily either are easier to find
this time around

some of the trails have
started to fill in from lack of
human footsteps
this place slowly becoming
scarier than it seems




april two thousand twenty-one
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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