Jeff Knorr reads excerpt of his poem The River


The Sacramento is pressing itself into
banks drifting against light and stones. The wind is flittering just a little
brushing grasses and shifting against the oaks and cottonwood trees. A few swallows dive sharply for insects and a heron hides in the reeds while the
red-tailed hawk circles above on a distant cyclone of air.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *