pensiveRiverside in Spring
Ah river,
heavy with spring runoff,
I watch you hurry down past this bridge,
over the sandbar that will soon be an island,
and think of change,
and the illusion of permanence.
A duck, surprised by my presence,
chooses not to land
and veers off,
and I wonder idly
what it would be like to come fishing here
when the water’s lower.
