Guiding Waters

I waded in the evening's dreamy pull;
Hands upon the ripples.

I hear music in the sands brushing
against the shore from the winds.

Standing ahead, looking behind, moving on.
The flowers from the trees fell at sunset.

Watching from a distant place as people fall
from the wild hard places.

I float on my back like a piece of driftwood,
with an unknown destination.

Sonja Phinney © 1993