Alone I sit beside a tree
Which sits beside a creek.
A lonely man stares back at me:
He looks, but does not speak.
Relieved, I nod in thanks to him,
His silence is a gift.
When he nods back, I grab a limb,
Release it, watch it drift.
It's journey is my focus now;
My new friend? Left behind.
I watch the twig with furrowed brow.
Our fates are intertwined.
It floats, gets caught in rocks, then, free,
Is sent over a fall
I run beside, trip, scrape my knee;
I search for what I saw
I wait beyond the dam's short drop
For my stick to emerge.
I squint into the stream, then stop.
It must still be submerged.
I sigh, and before I return
Look upward toward the sky
Thus, missed it safely leave the churn
Yes, that's a nice, fine lie.
A twig that I did not see crushed
Must still be floating, see?
I think this and my friend (still hushed)
Shrugs sadly back at me.
