
Rounded, soft edges
Weathered, tossed, churned, and beaten
Carried away
Then back again
Murmle, gurgle, echoes low
The waters wash
Over, around and surrounds
Quiet beauty in a violent storm
Euphonious sounds as waters ebb
Objects of beauty
Out of place
There are so many
All unique
It’s hard to choose
Each better than the next
In the end the choice too great
It’s best they stay
To frolic
With the others
They will remain
For there must be
More, soft edges
Recitals
Zorica Kelly Markovich
Babak Fakhamzadeh
A soft edged day, thinking of an expanse of water.