When afternoon slants the marsh
and water has drunk too much sun,
silver dreams crosscut,
stagger the current;
when long wading has brought me
everything I desire I lift myself
from among you, slow
breeze rises and I rise,
heaviness falls from me, light
is all; will you then look up
and water has drunk too much sun,
silver dreams crosscut,
stagger the current;
when long wading has brought me
everything I desire I lift myself
from among you, slow
breeze rises and I rise,
heaviness falls from me, light
is all; will you then look up
as my silence shadows you
homeward? Overlooked, deliberate
as meditation, beside your morning.
Noon’s glare, perhaps you doubt
I exist at all. But another blue dusk
will startle as I pass over,
legs trailing, neck
drawn back, angel’s wings
or dragon’s: discover
who it is that is always with you.
Photo by Gene Wilson
Bill Griffin is a retired family doctor in rural North Carolina. Poetry may not have saved his patients (although some have been preserved in verse) but poetry has certainly saved him. Bill’s poems have appeared widely including Tar River Poetry, Southern Poetry Review, and NC Literary Review. His most recent collection is RIVERSTORY : TREESTORY (The Orchard Street Press 2018). Share his posts of poets, poetry, and photography at GriffinPoetry.com.
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