The next poem is entitled "Night Poem."
It is late and there is no moon.
Alone on the bank I listened for sounds from the dry river.
The pulse of crickets rises and falls.
By starlight the sand as the color of fresh cork.
I breathe.
Trees face me on the far bank with the darkness older
than myself.
The stillness within.
If I cross over there I can rest in the foliage.
The sky looks big enough for a man to walk through.
Still I cannot reach the star growing there.
Downriver I know the cottonwoods wait like sudden mountains.
My feet are already planted in darkness.
Why is it only the mind will not let go?
Somewhere an elf owl sits crying.
The star is dead center.