the river is liquid purple tonight
water purling over rocks
all play and frothy plumes
full of itself, rejoicing in its own existence
high, so high
and still the kayakers play
surfing the tumble around logs stranded
under a fading sky of blushing orange and gold
clouds of cotton pulled thin
dyed quiet pink and deep lavender.
I am cradled by a seat of cool stone
mosquitoes nibbling at my feet
air chilling, slipping toward
fall’s subtle surrender
heart expanded with wonder
and heavy with longing.
thinking of the could-have-beens
other versions of this moment
where you and I stand at the bank
and watch the dying sun
the river laughing up at its creator
in wild rippling beauty fading toward
the navy robes of night.
of all the things my hands have held
the best by far is you
sings the headphone melody in my ears
backed by the chanting worship of crickets
ringing, ringing, soft and persistent
and the words are true.