A path by the river
The stream pouring out of thick vines
Fords the path in the place
Where the trees have thinned
To let sunlight onto the forest floor.
Walk beside the flow and chance
Upon a handsome buck
Standing tall in his river
Alert to changes in motion;
The stillness startles him
And he lopes off into the woods
Rest upon a rock while
Cicadas, screeching loud love,
Land all around
What path leads them through
Long slumbers bursting brilliantly
Into brief orgy?
Where a rivulet enters the stream
The path ends.
There is life in the forest
that cannot be seen
There are songs in the air
that cannot be heard
And the river carries them
As it flows beyond the bend.
©2003 Mark S. Richards