the warm air unexpected
is frozen still
holds its breath in anticipation
of the north storm storming
toward its river shore
watches as the darkness
swallows what little light
kills what little breeze
erases what ripples from shore
to shore
the moon reassuring
lays across the black glass
that once was water
across the eyes that once cried out
now divorcing from its beams
and glows and light and
shadows
from the he in him
from the restless unawakened dream
of streets torrential
the crushing rains
the toss and turn
of torn leaves raining down
in browns golds and blues
of a moon left in pieces
dim lights of a lonely town
on a river that was
of his recurring fear
that the fish
have no shoes
jppestana November 2, 2016
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