Tuesday, January 12, 2016


In the evening of tomorrow,
The sun will set on my canoe
And my eyes.
I don’t know where the waters will take me.
During the day, 
The river meanders
Its bed knows where it goes.
My eyes befriend its path
Salute its banks
Touch its foliage
And the fauna drinks in plain sight.
My eyes shake hands with its alligators
Greet its tadpoles
Beckon its birds…
In the dead of the night,
The river’s the river;
But is the river
The river?
Ahead of me
May be my day
But only maybe.
What turns and slopes?
How steep are the slopes?
Are there pills to dispel my fears?
And systems firmly in place to steer clear of swirls
Any hard shoulders?
How about tributaries, 
Currents running upstream,
And other natural safe exits?
No, no, no!
I shall not now
Go back home
I shall continue my stroll.