River

​

Along the soiled trails.

Sun peeking my way as she rises. 

Through the tall green crevices.

Its glance glistening on the blue.

Off the river.

 

On the sides.

Pebbles stare into the light.

Smooth and polished, reflecting.

Noting the smallest details.

Across the river.

 

A log. 

Now a fallen tree.

Quietly sleeping in the night.

No sounds made.

Past the river.

​

– Aidan Park