there is a place by the river
where i sit
and where i think
and where i watch the water
and the trees.
there was a person there today -
he had long hair
like a boy who used to love me,
and he was playing
a song
on his guitar
that i knew,
and it carried down the river,
down from the rocky spot where he was
to the tree-rooty dirt spot where i was.
in places like that
a stranger's music,
it seems natural.
it made me remember
that i am young
and joyful
and that the world is vast beyond my imagining.
it made me feel content
and whole
and it filled me with things i've felt my whole life
and still don't have a name for.
and later,
when i saw him walking up from the river,
carrying his guitar
and singing still
i thought,
he and i were,
for the length of a few songs,
the same.
that's what places like this
do to people,
and it's why i come here.
and i walked home
and i felt all the peace you can imagine.
i remember good things,
and this place is a good thing.
the boy who used to love me,
he is a good thing.
the sun on the water
and all my small joys,
those are good things.
a stranger's music,
a spot on the river,
it can remind you
that things are good
more often than they are bad.
it takes a certain place and a certain headspace to think like that,
but today i did.
there is a place by the river,
and that's what it does.