subtext

I tend to move along an edge watching

the river’s slow meander to the sea.

Before, I liked to float while pondering,

in my plodding fashion, deeper matters.

But now as I wander along these banks,

my thoughts tangled like the trees’ exposed roots,

not sure of the beginnings nor the ends

of one or the other as they all grasp

for a small bit of ground to hold on to,

I wonder at the leaves, like some people,

caught in an eddy’s backwash until it

becomes impossible to continue,

and I simply hang back watching the flow

of my life as it drifts slowly away.