From the crisp farm-fresh spring,
with hard ground,
spirits cracked and splintered,
but not broken by a hardened winter.
A sharp focus on the dirt brings back life,
one shovelful at a time,
while all the while,
the river beside us changes.
Faces with stories wound and unwound,
their campsites dreamnt, drenched, and scattered.
Nothing was lost,
And each moment mattered.
With a gathering gallowing force,
the wind and the rain shook loose the leaves and the lives of the disenfranchised,
Eyes opened for their moment,
here in the summer,
where the river changes,
Now and then,
summer has brought forth her bounty,
and I am thankful for her lessons,
her crisp celery,
her blood-red beets,
that brought us together,
our lives tethered,
for a moment I am sharing,