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.
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