The Aged

With each dip in the cloud
they stood a little
higher than the sky
big boots clopping down on the river rock moss
covered, the seamlessly blending bank and water
the sky heavy handed with approaching rain

With every day
I age a little older
don’t ask how old I feel

When everyone thinks you’re older
enough
you start to believe them

The sun obscured
the river running fog
the horizon bound close
though it felt a little out of place
in a Big Sky state

You just have to take it slow
each day
and find that stroke

I should know how to stand
to move
without disturbing too much
my wake through this world is too small

Down toward the glossy reflection
the gray heavy drooping afternoon
the water flat, opaque
broken by the hesitant rise and retreat of a pod of trout
feeding

let it do the work for you

let this cloud canopy remain

this sense of

something

waiting for the cast to unfurl

it kicks back

softly now
see it now

or feel?

feeling is seeing and seeing you discriminate
what it is
and what it should be

Standing on the water
boots silent
speaking softly of the river
watching the water break with a million little raindrops
looking for something more in the distant high water past
and they never cast
just kept walking on in the rain.