On the banks of a river in June.
It is a pleasant thing to realize that all things change.
Even on this most placid of days.
A breeze, a cottenball sky.
A campfire—a campsite.
My beloved, my best friend will leave me—and he will not return the same ever again. So on that perfect day when he returns to me shall I think of that day in June when all seemed right and cool and still under the shade of cottonwood trees on the bank of the river?
What shall I remember on that day? When all was right with the world?
When the emptiness of my wallet did not betray the emptiness of my heart?
I look at all I love.
I love my friend.
Across the sea the Motherland awaits, and her heart will receive him.
On this prefect day –when all is right and cool and holy in this world..hear and now…
I shall remember this day on the banks of a river in the month of June...under cottonwood trees.
copyright July 2010