Frankie Bailer

Nature, an Epilogue

I visit the river each afternoon--a ritual

Refreshing enough that I often come back in the evening

And early morning as well, especially if I have

Work to do in the near future.

Its serenity stills the frantic, oncoming rush

Of spreadsheets and word processors as the trees and underbrush

That line its banks--evergreen--brighten the dull

Grey of winter that surrounds everywhere else.

It rushes--the same every day.  Every hour.  Every minute.

Every half-second.  The marginal flow appears

To babble, but who can tell?

You might persuade the greenery to sway under

The influence of a non-existent breeze if you

Were discontent with its appearance.

But this setting suits me well--

Enough animation to make the scene a nice escape; if only

For a minute.  Anything more would clutter the icons

On my desktop