THE RIVER
Yesterday
the river was lapping at my feet like an old man tapping out a message
about time flowing downward from hills remote as hawks.
Today he rises slowly, a momentous pulse pushing seaward, fed by faraway pistons.
At the waterside where air is fresh as a pear, a sweet mist glides forward like a perfumed wrist.
Islands of floating plants drift, joining into continents, rearranging in serpentine tattoos.
Beneath
the surface glittery like so many exploding firecrackers, fish swirl,
shadowy limbs of an athlete smoothly cutting back and forth.
Denizens gather at the riverbanks in spoonfuls, sprinkling laughter farther than droplets shot from spinning umbrellas.
Distantly a lizard pokes its head into the sun, jerking left and right, vainly divining a future obscured by brightness.
Sparkling
river of silence…
Sparkling
river of silence,
Traveler
along a shadowy forest floor—
I
drink deep draughts, lasting,
Of
your overflowing stillness!
Tipping
your goblet,
I
taste your brightness
As
floral wine
Swirling
inside a crystal
And
breathe in perfume.
Fingers
of a spellbound existence
Stop
my ears.
Awe,
a thief, steals my voice.
Bereft
of noise, I am
Transfixed
as the moon
Hovering,
windless night,
Balanced
on the sword tip of time.
The
world is motionless
As
my spirit moves
And
my stumbling heart is filled
By
a presence…and quiet…
THE MOON AND RIVER AND SILENCE
Guided
by the moon,
Traveling
downriver,
I
am enraptured by silence.
All
I hear is, delicate, song of my oar
As
it dips gently, emerges,
Streamlets,
bright notes running down the edge
Of
the blade, silver spoon, glistening.
I
listen to the moon…
River,
warbling bird…
Illumined
by silence.
Crickets
dare not crack their knuckles.
 |
| Mekong River, Cambodia |
