when it’s all over will I
return to the stream
from where I came
not in fin or web-toed
nor sharp clawed from
above or below
without flash shadow
or even a ripple
but simply flowing
making my way home?
Maybe I’ve just been feeling the weather unable to escape the relentless searing sun but you brought me upright when your voice threw me the shade of a fat summer cloud I remember the wonderful troubl
if not to hydrate parched bodies or find a leak in the roofs of miserable souls then to pour and pour and pour over a crazy world slow the talk and traffic and hope a few hear the silence that drips
if I had three hands guess how many dogs I’d have and with two hearts who knows how many friends regardless I keep to a single resolution how many bridges can I build in one lifetime?