Early Ghost Poem

(Welcome October! In New England, comes in like a painted clown, goes out like a ghost.)

brisk October breeze; a cormorant sticks it's neck out of the river; a single cricket chirps

the myriad houses on the shoreline rising out of the arc of spacious pure river water like my thoughts

if I were to dive in that ever-flowing river, this world of two shorelines would disappear


~Son Rivers 2009