i see him down by the water,
off the path
through the untrailed
thick woods.
he's thinking,
maybe grieving.
he's throwing stones
into the iridescent
blue stream.
one after the other.
he's crying.
wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
i leave him alone,
he's on holy ground.
i've been there
more than once,
though not recently.
No comments:
Post a Comment