They two rafted down the lonely river
that whispered and licked at the edges of every thought.
They two drifted with the widening, muddying, lazying current.
They two snuck beneath a full moon behind dark woolen clouds.
In their straining ears, the waters crinkled, the logs moaned and squeaked, the wind scurried.
I cannot tell you how long they floated through the dark and sleeping world.

Some days
in the morning light, when the sirens resound and grown-up moralities fail,
a child and an old man hide together in the green bending reeds where hid Moses long ago.

Some days
in the brightest widest, most wondrous daylight, while adults confuse right with wrong,
a child and an old man wait in fear and trembling
within a little wood
dappled with cheery springtime light
and rattled by rivertrees shaking
in the mellow springtime breeze

Some days
the great God has to forgive so much

BW/AW
copyright AM Watson