And Again, New Old Work

I think this was the last of the poems I had written around the time of my Creative Writing Scholarship award and working for the writer's conference.  I know I was thinking of Canada for this.  I think it's a bit simple but I really do like it.




Equinox

Branches brown
and twisted
appear to sleep - 
but like given a wave
from a shaman's hand
heal
when water
the color of copper
fooled by the sky
blushes blue,
a blanket
tucks in the rocks 
on shore