On the Willow Branch

Now the pond is still and the softest paddle stroke eases
the boat into the cove. Over the floating stars
you drift, the water settles around you.

The eyes widen as the body remembers,
the stars flare over the pines.
Down cove the tree frogs line their favorite hymns
and the wood drake listens.
At your fingertips the water strider performs
his nightly miracle.

Then a branch above the jon boat rustles like breath
and you look up. Nothing,
then the rustle again, and you shine the light.

Red eyes spark on the willow leaves,
flare, selfless,
and suddenly you’re ashamed of your loneliness.

The wind gusts hard on the pond, and the branch sways
out of your beam. The jon boat tosses
easy in the wave-slap, and the old brain clings
to the spine.