Song XIV

Song XIV
Oh little apple and whither 
   are you rolling? Ever further 
from the riverside, where she waits, 
   as still as a heron, for you.

Oh little apple, will this be 
   your last word? There are no last words. 
The river flows on, as it must, 
   past you and the lonely heron.

Tom Pow

from Songs from a Dying Village  (Pueblo Press, 2008)

Reproduced by permission of the author.
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Tom Pow

Tom Pow is a poet with a dozen collections to his name, and has also written for children and young adults. Travel and the exploration of peripheral regions feature in his more recent projects and poetry. 

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