That River
Debris is flowing up the river with the tide and I am that.
A fish is jumping sudden making ripples on the surface;
I am that. A sea gull shits, it lands upon a motor boat
and I am that. Across the river, eastern pines are dark and silent;
I am that. I sip the last drops of my coffee and I’m manifestly that.
~Son Rivers 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
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