Natural Language

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Sometimes, I’ll let the landscape
Guide my words, let the plateaus
Play with my language,
Let the mountains craft my diction.
Sometimes, I’ll drink the liqour
Of a clean creak against the backdrop
Of hazy mountains in the distance,
Putting my pen to the paper pad.
Sometimes, I’ll let the sky speak
A word or two, and the plains a few.
Sometimes, I’ll abandon my control
To the cliffs and the hills,
Let them say what they will,
As nature looks at me as a child.