Tonight, no weight. The sun slants over
the city, air lifts and cools. Below the weir
cormorants form a black line, patient fishers
with a solemn duty. If I keep walking,
these lit houses, traffic, the glow
of office towers will become a dark blue
backdrop, and I will be in a field. The smell
of ripe timothy and brome. Owls calling.
I love this world. And I will wait here for you.