The river must be flowing
but it looks like it’s shimmering in place,
ripples shining beneath the noonday sun
like sequins on a belly dancer.

I can’t feel any rhythm
but I hear laughter and dried leaves shaking
on the early chilly March wind.
All else quiet; shadows and busy reflections.

I follow the path
because I don’t have a sense of direction
and I am curious, eager, and not tired
of finding new things in old days.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Website Powered by

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: