“making night into day…”…“riverine,” my poem
Whence the wisps…
riverine
Whither the barren shapes
that rise from the horizon,
and lose their form
as they climb the sky?
Whence the wisps that fill small voids,
the remnants of those banks,
the shapeless swirls
of pink and white and grey?
They don’t stay, defying names,
always shifting to new frames,
making night into day,
drifting as they will,
the vault is a vast current,
the waifs of one-time clouds
fill and roil the channel,
without sound,
such patient change,
a nameless river over all…
November 26, 2025
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My poetry. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2026 All rights reserved.
A poet is a “maker”
…and it doesn’t have to rhyme…
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Your comments are welcome—tell me what you’re thinking.
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