swallows dip low
over steady flow
of mirrored brown glass reflecting
the clouds, look like coffee stained cotton.
a “v” rises up, quacks away
and the wind sweeps away memory
the world just keeps coming.
brown water and light
it all passes under the foot bridge.
(from a vantage on the north branch)
as soon as I read the first few lines of this I instinctively knew it was about your little lovely spot on the river. You described it so well when I saw you in September that I feel like I’ve sat there with you, for sure now I practically have.
it made me think of my walk to the el station every morning. the city seems like it just goes by in a ceaseless series of movements. i really like this.
nice. what inspired this one?
The river, mostly. I had just finished reading Annie Dillard’s PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK, which has a similar and longer reflection on the world coming and the world going. Dillard stood on a small bridge. Sometimes she was more struck by the water coming toward her and sometimes by the water moving away from her. That its flow was ceaseless is what grabbed me, whether we look up stream or we look down.