The River Courses

The river courses, its currents speed as it carves the land; pushes against the mud, the long grasses bending over the dark deep light blue-brown. Her grandmother creaks the rungs of her rocking chair, her shawled shape is molded earth colors like the river and its banks, both passing time quietly, alone. The rain changes the sky outside her window; it becomes Dove-grey. The clouds are wrapped together, sunlight cushioned, they are bandages with the light like blood seeping until the empyrian is completely covered, and clots- Venus, Mars and Jupitor, perhaps- behind the outer layer of the celestial sphere in a sea of wedding-white. The full moon is veiled within the cottony gauziness, it shines in the violent heavens.