River Running
You cannot see or hear
the river moving
but you know that reality slides.
The fog fills your ears,
and unlike the river, it drowns itself.
There's a lane that
leads up from the valley into sunlight.
When you get
to where you can look back,
the river has turned beyond a hill.
Damp boots creak
as you cross a road bridge.
The sky has surfaced with no memory.
The river rolls on somewhere
still dreaming,
still sliding.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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