Just for a While

By Mark Johnson
Just for a while I walked down to a river's edge.
The tree roots there coiled in a twisted dance, bowing to the river's soft roar.
And they held each other in loving embraces,
cradling little terraces where tiny green clovers grew, facing the blue sky,
calmly listening to what the river was loudly whispering to them,
smiling at the sun, knowing that a new day would come.
Then they danced to a new breeze, swaying in hidden rhythms, swaying again,
in an inviting twirl, tempting me to stay for the remainder of the day.
Just for a while I walked down to a river's edge.

Just for a while I climbed a lone tree atop a rolling hill.
I sat on a limb waiting to witness its knowledge of the passage of time.
After an hour or so a breeze arose telling me I'd have to wait for another day,
and I listened closely, for I was told the answer was there and only there.
So I climbed back down, sad but grateful, knowing I would be back again,
And each time I would go, I would learn something new from that tree,
something I could share with others, but wondered whether I ever would.
Soon the sun on the horizon was beckoning me home to rest for yet another day.
Just for a while I climbed a lone tree atop a rolling hill.

Just for a while I visited a grave of someone I'd never met.
Dead flowers lie there, from a lost lover, or a dear friend, or a weeping child.
A bird landed on the headstone and turned its head to stare at me patiently.
For we had something in common, never having met the deceased,
but for some mysterious reason called there that day to meet.
The bird cautiously peered at the flowers, and then back at me,
learning from me their intent, that being an unrequited gift of love.
My eyes fell on the shadow of the headstone as I watched the bird take flight.
Soaring away, grateful for our encounter, as I am to this day.
Just for a while I visited a grave of someone I'd never met.
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