at the edge

Photographer Unknown; posted for Magpie Tales

cold rain pours,
melts in the river.
shall she join the others
who have gone before,
shall she.

a wet raven watches.
will his beak tell
the stories of a woman
at the edge?

in the water below, she
sees reflections of herself.
before succumbing
to the emptiness

of the waves, she
sees a glimmer, she
hears whispers, she

flies with the raven
to the land of dripping green.


Submitting this for Mag 84 at Magpie Tales
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13 Responses to at the edge

  1. brian says:

    wow…haunting write…perhaps once beneath she will find what she was looking for or no longer feel its emptiness….

  2. jabblog uk says:

    It was not an act of will that led her there. She was drawn.

  3. jinksy says:

    Sink or swim? Easy choice, I’d say…

  4. suz says:

    ha the land of dripping green….now where could that be?
    good story telling

  5. Martin says:

    Wow! flying with the raven
    to the land of dripping green, sounds good.

  6. tess kincaid says:

    I love the land of dripping green…

  7. friko says:

    will she, won’t she?
    The land of dripping green beckons. . . .

  8. Tumblewords says:

    It’s a beautiful image – the land of dripping green…nice work, to be sure.

  9. Reflections says:

    Nice! love the haunting feel, beckoning her forth to the land of dripping green.

  10. Ann Grenier says:

    I wonder what the glimmer was that drew her into the depths? One can’t help but see that she is on a precipice, on the edge, as you describe. Good poem!

  11. Love the idea of the dripping green

    Anna :o]

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