Nothing Seems Out of Place

Today, nothing seems out of place. The river is at ease between its banks, those four swans are meant to be there, suddenly emerging from the shadows beneath the bridge and into a bright arena of sunlight. And along the path, an old, bone worn retriever is taking its honored place in the morning, waddling slowly on a slack, patient lead, unhurried in the hands of someone who loves her. Assembled too in their given places, a row of peppercorn trees, a children's playground and the big, rusty barrel of a naval gun pointing out over the bay as it has done for a hundred years primed with peace, and my shadow finding its usual place to rest, the ground accommodating that familiar shape as it does to a friend. There are times when nothing seems out of place and it would be easy to believe.