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~ Poetry by me ~


A coin fell. Long it lay
Beneath the lake; later lifted
From the mud for a museum,
"It´s old", they say. "Gift for the gods."

A coin falls, breaks the surface.
Prayers rise for health and harvest,
Young lips whisper age-old names
As the wind stirs, and moves the leaves.

A coin fell. Ripples spread
Across wyrd´s waters, softly break
Upon the farthest shore of time
Where I am standing. Then is now.

© 2005 Michaela Macha


License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:

This work by Michaela Macha (www.odins-gift.com) is licensed
under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives License.