September by a creek

late summer afternoon
spent in liquid solitude
no sound but the breathing of the chill water
solitude like no other

the sounds of the body drowned out
absorbed in the blue tail of a gekko
wrapped in the rose hip's red sphere

the mind's babble reduced to the gentle massage
of rock by river. jostling them in unity. interacting.
as individual members of an everlasting family of humanity

as small frogs cling like so many
to the safety and comfort of the past.