The path and I

On the bridge the laned cars
queue like cells in a narrowed artery.
Beneath all that
the river: a broad mirror

After rain
as I walk beside the mirror
I’m poor as an empty can
left on an exiled mattress

The path and I become
more travelled       Our spaces
open       Our stones

After rain       as the light rises
the twigs that hang
by the river       glint
with tiny gems

First published in Creatrix

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