18 October 2015
And here we all are, this golden hour
on the river; on a bridge between
two cities, a bowl of blue sky
and gold light above us, the brown water
below us, behind us, beyond,
the current beneath all our conversations,
and later the lanterns all coming on
*
J. says there was this woman, Rachel,
not really affected, but needed to do
something, needed to help–there, in his
neighborhood, clipboard in hand, she made
sure that everyone got what they needed
as the floods receded down the streets,
and people assessed what was left
*
Someone makes a toast–to the first
responders walking by, a downed policeman,
to people making their way together, finding
their feet, together. A mayor says the rivers
don’t divide us, they bring us together,
and with each toast we make–all of us
gathered at the long tables, the river
threading our conversations–with each toast
a gust of wings above us, a flyover of geese
following the river home, and in the dark,
the rough voices still singing