Just Being Here
Tugboats glide up river
towards their twilight rendezvous.
The trees on the far bank
are filling with birds gathering
for their nightly roost.
I have come here
to take in the calm, to make
my peace.
I never know what to say,
what words to use that haven't
been spoken a hundred times
before or what to request when
all has been said and done.
My prayers now are silence,
the same that lay at the core of trees
and in the depths of the river.
There is a joy that almost
breaks the surface but seems
to submerge when I draw near.
The evening is all around
and if I close my eyes
and be still, I no longer know
where I begin or where I end.
It's enough just being here.
Copyright © Paul Willason | Year Posted 2024
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