brick and clouds remain
in view on the path
between the street

the bag is full and
gears shriek of rusted time
the wheels fight to turn

dew rises as the sun begins to fall
the water sits and ripples in the wind

she lifts and pours
sliding an unwanted landscape of lakes
to form a flowing river
unseen before this moment,
unnamed by any man,
it shall remain so

yet this flowing force has always been.
touched by time and those who came before
this fact remains
the truth, which is carried and passed

solid in its fluidity
time cannot dry or change this truth

this truth now falls from another
through the pages of blue and script
atop the table
the water sits