A ribbon of mirrored glass recedes into the dry brown land
it flows with a lazy indolence and a calm assurance that
one day rain will come…. I am not so sure
I see in the distance Hundreds of birds
when they move there is the sound of applause
wings beating out like so many hands but those
wings for all their Furious intensity
keep the birds bound to the water that
is receding into the dry brown land
hemmed in by dry riverbanks
the water slowly drains into memory
The memory of large trees is preserved with the
huge tree stumps that stand on exposed spider leg roots
one day rain will come, maybe it will come
I am not so sure, I have paddled
on this ribbon of mirrored glass
in the middle of the wide brown land
if I drift on this river with a lazy indolence
and calm assurance that the wide brown land doesn’t need our help
then maybe one day the ribbons of glass
will recede for good, but I fail to act
Maybe I am bound like the birds to the river
to something that is receding into memory
I am left with the disconnect between wanting to help
and knowing how to help this wide brown land
with its ribbons of mirrored glass
