A Summers Beach: James Adamson

Snowshoes are giant feet
and music is the sway of
uneven steps.
Written memory creates
preservation of the need to see
snow in the sand of
division between grains and flakes
when time crushes all
to some river telling tales
of evolution we are afraid
to sink into.
Letters trail like powerful words
because we rarely think
of their source and meaning.
Now they kick us like
a fear of Q
or as an inescapable judgment
so I ride on simple beats
that I can only contribute to
by risk of being worse than a fool
and telling what I think God is saying.


From the self-published book of poetry, “On a Drift”.