Monday, July 20, 2009
Prayers, Portraits, Post-Its (32)
The two of us in a white boat,
casting contentedly and without hope
as dusk falls in the quiet bay.
In the mirror stillness
of the end of day, or beginning of night,
we hear the sound of water
moving, a faint trickling, somewhere near us.
Somewhere near us water is coming
into, or going out of, this great river.
Now it is dark. We have stopped
fishing and are just sitting, listening
to the sound, a little louder now,
of a great bathtub emptying, or filling, slowly.