
in the eyes of a tired stranger
folded between words in a letter
tucked into the loft shelves
floating beside autumn winds
unsuspected, under hot pink petals

Sometimes I lay in the loft and hear the water hit the docks.
The boats sway and their bumpers whine.
Ducks call out with protesting quacks and geese
continue their conversation in mid-flight.
I’ll miss you when we leave, dear river;
but will keep your sounds buried deep in my peaceful heart.