<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355918" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Departure</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thousands of tiny <br>fists tamping the surface of the lake <br>flowing like a wide <br>river gone crazy, southeast, westnorth <br>letting the wind push <br>it around in its bed and the boat <br>hull hugging the shore. <br>What else can she do? Even the trees <br>agree, shaking <br>their crowns, throwing down their leaves as if <br>she were their only <br>child. Caught cold-footed in Magnuson <br>grass, trying to cut <br>free of the creosote-soaked pilings sunk <br>deep in the shallow <br>mud holding the water, holding her <br>wake for a moment, <br>furrow folding back over into <br>confusion. Cascade <br>gray crosscurrents! Sharp switching eddies! <br>Unreliable <br>shoals! Let the cloth argue with itself, <br>gasping like a child <br>with the air knocked out and the wind <br>socking the center. <br>Let the sail, shot-silk green and white, now <br>snapping, billowing <br>slowly draw her away from this beach <br>marked with broken glass, rocks <br>as smooth as plovers’ eggs, and small <br>stones splashed iron red <br>and orange like the sky breaking open. <br>Let the windows ignite <br>flickering copper on the other side. <br>Let the water be <br>disked with silver from here to there <br>churning as if roiled <br>by the flanks of a great, gentle fish.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Christianne+Balk">Christianne Balk</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=355918" data-title="Departure de Christianne Balk" data-description="Thousands of tiny fists tamping the surface of the lake flowing like a wide river gone crazy, southeast, westnorth letting the wind push it around in its bed and the boat hull hugging the shore. What else can she do? Even the trees agree, ..."></div> </div> </div>

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