From a backyard in Fair Haven,
Vermont,
a long, distant train whistle feels
like water sliced thin by my
all-day skipping
stone thoughts. My
restful,
lazy,
summertime, train-whistle thoughts that go
jumping and skimming and sinking
finally into starry night air
weightless. I exhale in-sync like
water
on
water. Like restful,
lazy after soft rain still lake-water.
Early morning, early night, long-fading, sweet train whistle
evaporates
time.
Renee Marie
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/water-on-water/
