The river is low, and cluttered with duckweed.
On a lone snag, a cormorant
spreads and preens.
Everything is waiting for the winter rains.
I alone am in motion,
the restless heritage of my kind.
Keep moving; never stop.
The river flows on forever.
Three seagulls wing overhead
with sorrowful cries.
--After all, I have nowhere to go.
Books Available
Dervish Lions
The Day of My First Driving Lesson
Country Well-Known as an Old Nightmare's Stable
High-Voltage Lines
Knocking from Inside
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