THE PATH, THE FENCE, THE FIELDS

we walk by the river

talking inside ourselves,

like rhapsodies in two reflections-

different, but the same.

the path, the fence, the fields-

unknown obstacles that stare

through then, and now, beyond-

have heard love chime before.

ahead the river breaks

going separate ways,

but we stick to the same side

in the willow woods

and farms of flooded fields-

with ascension stroking

each reaction

phosphorous in the rain.

Copyright Strider Marcus Jones. INSIDE OUT. 2009. All Rights Reserved.