All this,
cut by water
since time immemorial–
clear, turquoise, deep–
cliffs steep,
stooped;
moss and leaning
green.
You and me,
lines curled out,
behind, and
out again;
rhythmic and
soft
landing
of
fly;
rocks piled like
loaves of bread;
this water,
like wine.
If time could stop,
freeze frame
our communion,
I think I could let go
of my dreams,
of the endless lists,
of unfulfilled hopes,
of projects,
of agenda items,
even the unresolved
conflicts
of my soul.
I could leave my questions
on the table
glad.
