Near Silence

Swerve in silt and near silence

cold California river

beneath fresher pines

of thirsty valley floors

to the lowest point

you’ve found,

where you travel.

 

Within slacked blue

green algae beds

you float west with fallen sunny days

sweeping south winds

cold and slow

until the misty sea intakes you,

flowing as no other

to the north ocean or the sky.

 

I will plant my feet

and stay

still on the Earth that keeps

you flowing,

and lead

my eyes upward with sunrise.