Listening to the River

.

Listening to the river and reading between the splashes and the stream just what the paternal hand has offered us, in flowing disguise, the secret of existence.

.

Reading the sun’s final request upon nearing the horizon, exhausted it would seem to these chilly stones, outstretched shadows, these fallen leaves, but the glitter on the river is ever as golden as the locks of the angel whose fire assures our existence.

.

Is this some secret esoteric language that so few understand the sanctity of water, unable to appreciate a sacred space wide enough to spread our souls upon the lawn, without being trampled by the industry of distraction?

.

A yellow-breasted native takes flight, before being branded with a collar and a name.

.

Copyright 2007, Tom Radzienda.

.