She sits on the bank
where small stones punctuate
the surface in front of her,
and the river ripples
gently at her feet.
Here the forest waits
while the river crosses,
tall trunks reflected
in its flow.

This is a place
where grief and love come
together. She comes here to watch.
She comes here because.

She comes in the morning
when dreams of before
dissolve with the light
and she wakes
to the thinness of things
around her.

She comes in the evening
after the din of distraction
and the business of living
have concealed all thought.
She comes here to listen.

This is a place
where knowledge fails—
and she comes here
to the river
for the answer.