A road is the site of many journeys.
The place of a walk is there
before the walk and after it.
This is the road walked under a full moon
where I followed the river road along its switch backs,
down into the bottomland.
The moldy tarp of sky folded around me
smothering wren-colored fields,
musky breath of river warm as a mother’s.
I cradled my silence carrying it with me
like shield down into the bottom water.
Watching the moon’s reflection on the river
waver through marsh vapor
like a message passed between friends
I stood my ground alone
waiting for the tribe to gather.