Brazos River
Ordinary Time, 2025
Gliding, silent, dark body
dipping below the rippling sheen,
he dares me with each disappearance to read
the dots and dashes behind him—
an edict of instinct
written in liquid.
How this testament of being persists,
then seems to perish,
a beckoning to study the surface,
to scan the stillness between breaths,
to hallow each revelation rising
upon the modest waters,
these murmuring, fathomless waters.