All the beauty of the sparkling river, spread out in the sun.
Red ruts rise here and there, naked in the ebbing tide.
Between the river and me, a ribbon of green and grey
With one magpie, bobbing.
The wind carries my breath toward the rails.
Could my words make these ripples?
I move closer and see the shards of colour on the water:
White, grey, green, blue, black.
The magpie startles.
It takes its leave.
And so do I.
ogginblog 