Downstream, Finally

Almost every morning, then,
I sought out restful shadow;
tried to steal a mere glimpse
of the riverbank reflected
by the swiftly moving current,
but was washed instead
downstream, mesmerized by
haphazard dazzle and glint,
by the hypnotic rush and burble
which drew me in utterly,
left me dazed and staring
at the end of each day and
washed away from me
all sense of time and proportion,
all sense of purpose, all sense.

These days, stranded
in the shallow, I rise early
to make these few notes,
and in the solitude and silence
of an almost August morning
with only a journal and a coffeecup
I try to make the world anew,
search for the strength to face
whatever it is I go to meet.

——[|]——
Shallow
—————[|||]—————

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