"creekside picnic"
A bank slants toward late light,
grass pressed flat where the blanket settles.
Water shifts in a slow pattern,
small rings widening near the fallen branch.
A thermos rests in the shade,
its warmth fading into the ground.
Clothes lie in a loose heap near reeds,
one sleeve brushing dry earth.
Footsteps compress the bank,
and the surface adjusts around a quiet entry.
A breeze moves through the treeline,
lifting one corner of the blanket, then letting it fall.
Upstream, a faint sound carries,
not close enough to follow.
The day holds steady,
as if waiting for the next small change.
.
.
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Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: April 26th, 2026 05:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: Mutley Ravishes, sorenbarrett, Tristan Robert Lange
- In collections: 2026.
Offline)
Comments10
very good write my friend, simplistic description which fits well enjoyed
Fit for a Sunday away from the rat race. Thanks, dear Norman 🙏🕊️
most definitely
Many thanks, Norman 🙏🏻🕊️
most welcome
Edenic, Arqios!
One place that's on the bucket list for the other side; this side of heaven is pretty much covered. Thanks, Mutley 🙏🕊️
It seems a still life in motion but not action. It awaits on hold for what is to come. The very verbs indicate holding. Nicely done Cryptic a fave
We hold when we hold what anticipation bears in promise gestating in the offing. Thank you so much Soren 🙏🕊️
Most welcome Cryptic
This is a amazing.It highlights the the absolute power of good poetry to paint a picture and transport the reader. I can taste champagne.Well done
Transportation and teleportation through words, yes... vicarious commuting since any other has not yet presented themself to us. Thanks amigo 🙏🕊️
Love it! Very calming and tranquil. Do we know whose footsteps approached?
Thanks Katie B. I imagine someone intimate or the poetic persona narrating the scene...either way🙏🕊️
Got it now
I am hoping that the gotten was satisfying in the reading 🙏🕊️
what happened to those good old picnic days eh .. thanks for the memory my friend .. now of course we can re-visit whenever we choose .. Neville
Even the special haunts have now faded into urban developments, overcrowding, or annexation by war or politics. The ones that remain can still be re-visited or better still, new ones found and settled into... thanks, dear Neville 🙏🕊️
My friend, tthe blanket lifting and settling again really stays with me. It’s such a small movement, but it carries the whole atmosphere…like the scene is breathing on its own. Beautifully done, Rik. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
A million and a trillion stuff in everyday lives and the nuance and distinction lies where the eye and senses train themselves to see the minutest of differences. That is the stamp that makes them our very own. Thanks, Tittu 🙏🕊️✒️🤩
Did the Ants turn up? Enjoyed.
Ah, the ants, the black ones more amenable but stinkier... and the red ones whose sting leaves memories of their own. Thanks Kevin 🙏🕊️
No Probs.
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