I sat with Thoreau for a few minutes today
where one would expect to find Him.
Warm grass blisses and living water streams
and embankments for tired minds and asses.
A spunky fish kept interrupting our conversation
to my initial consternation
Plunkripple splooshripple pauserestart
but then all peace, fish is part of story now
There was a moment of dazed laughable perfection
When the doe, elegant as any dancer
made Her way cross the stream story
A fisherman had been by some unknown moments past
Lure and line hovering as a dragonfly over the water;
stolen by the tree limb.
Thoreau didn’t have much of a chance to get a word in.

04/19/2021

Posted on 04/19/2021
Copyright © 2024 Rebecca Andre