Watching the Wake

Watching the Wake The river serenity incarnate. Water like a liquid mirror holding the sky, the trees Light falling in late summer eve perfection. We smoothly glide along in the small boat With old friends, Saying nothing. Looking behind us all the way For hours, fascinated I study how our wake unfolds behind us From a tossing turbulence To a small and perfect wave behind that, Curling at the ends just so, The light falling into those curls As though it were obsidian being shaved, Short straight dapples across the ever forming edge Then behind that A nearly flat wider wave Fans out and vanishes into the river. There's a lot of great art being made by this, I think So simple So beautiful Eternal though transient. So it goes with us, I feel Our lives are our constant art, Unfolding without plan.