Michael Erickson- Life, A River

Deep are my rivers,

Straight along the way.

With reeds that grow tall,

Hide herons of gray.

Beneath the orange sky,

Reflecting clouds so high.

I stretch most languid,

Enjoying the ride.

Over stones, I’ve rolled,

Cutting deep in river banks.

A press of experiences,

nods away at my head.

While I wait til my course

Bid’s me be dead.


The poems this month have a very personal touch as each one was crafted silently by the bedside of a dying patient. This poem is part of a larger collection highlighting my personal experience working in the healthcare field. if you’d like to read more follow the link here.


Michael is a husband, father, writer, poet, and aspiring author. He finds time to scribble down his thoughts in the dead of night, between ghosts and night owls. If you’d like to read more of his poetry follow the link here. Or to visit his full blog, ‘The Ink Owl’ click here.

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