my mind sinks away
between sun spots of gliding
water and suspended shades
of green. Nothing is floating
against the current. Under
the water level, I feel
space for secrets
shelters of what
will be the future, maybe
My friends light candles
and will talk on the way back
about the boys on the benches
but I prefer to sit quietly
under the sacred oak trees
in the bend of the brook
Poem 1210 Amsterdam, 2017-03-13 Chapel the Sacred Oak on the Beerze (in 1400 the statue of Mary was stolen from the oak, but it drifted back upstream) Collection:Webgarden Keyword:Expectation Keyword:Brabant% Dedicated to:Dory dK