Like Trees Planted by Streams of Water

On this small bluff, lives hang like leaves.
A psalm trickles and surges
in roiling eddies and worried curves.

The Illinois could erode the banks.
All the new and old oaks could tumble
into a templed dam. But roots twist hard

instead beneath the river's silted bed.
They fill and feed the farthest leaves
that burn until lives fall to the water

in flames. The colors catch and wither
in human debris. Between a milk carton
and one rented ski, a single, silver fish

breaks the gray-green surface of its world,
like a tiny god might puncture the sky.

Copyright © 2003 David Wright All rights reserved
from A Liturgy For Stones
DreamSeeker Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission