By the River at the End of March

The riverbank wears new clothes, crude edges refined by hewn chunks of Precambrian rock. Where we used to walk, trees hover at the edge waiting for grey waters to retreat, and blackbirds to sing again. Wild geese are nesting.

Marking life changes
by nature’s ebb and flow, is
mostly humbling task

©2021 S. Michaels
As The Crow Flys – Haibun

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