Pressed Grasses

Coming upon a patch of grass
Pressed hard
Where once stood a tent
I thought of the brevity of time
And the hurry of life.

I wondered at those who slept here
Near the soft hush of the river.

Did they pause
To watch fish dance
And silver light leap?

Did they breathe the dawn
Sweat the heat of noon
Drink the blushing moon
Like sweet wine?

Here
Where fire seared their fish
Did they celebrate
Their sustenance
Thankful
For the river’s gift?

Here
Where lanterns glowed
Did they sing their joy
To the stars?

Here
Where cloth hid their secrets
Did they join
In the way of lovers?

Here
A patch of grass
Pressed to the earth
By moments of life
Memories were made
Gathered together
With fishing poles
Pillows and frying pans
Packed and taken
Leaving others to reckon
At bits of personal history.

Sweet is the gathering of a stranger
Wondering at
Pressed grasses
At the edge of a river.