River Glow

The river holds within it a channel for bygone moments, as if all that was will be its movement into tomorrow. Below the darkest sheen an ancient starlight glows, and there, long drowned ghosts dream. Under a slow flow the moon swims up to gaze upon its pallid face, where far above it glimmers. I feel the tendinous silt of my life, see my coming and going, apprehend my shifting shores, in the long nights tumbling flood.