Coda

A salmon, battered white, goes bouncing
Down the rocks back to the sea. It's dying,
Having done its job: the long, hard fight
Against the current of this fast and frigid
Stream to reach a spot which, for no
Reason, was the one place it could
Spawn. The eggs are safely buried now
Beneath another patch of stones up
There, above the rocks it stares at,
Battered, finished, being carried back
Toward the sea.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 62 times
Written on 2016-07-12 at 16:31

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