I've been called a wandering soul.
I visualize my care flowing away,
floating on a little river.
Everyday the river waits for your reflection.
The rain stopped and the sun shined.
Am I ready?
I can sense how close you are.
I think you know it.
I find a misty course of the river to follow.
I hit a roughly-mowed bank and bounce off.
Bobolinks and Grasshopper Sparrows.
They sit upon the overhanging branches,
watching my progress.
The old fields on both sides of the river converge.
And the ride is all over.
Nothing mattered anymore.
I only wish it lasted.
And things were going so well...