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Poetry / Thigh-Deep in Aimless Thought

Thigh-Deep in Aimless Thought

The river splits around the implacable man.
Solid he stands against the pressure
the angry current failing against the thighs
unsteady stones wildly tumbling asunder
yet firm beneath his felt feet-
the impotent granite
unable to shake its mortal captor.
There are no trevails, no details out standing
thigh-deep in aimless thought.

Hours lost flailing the bound feather,
stitched steel and impaled fur sent adrift.
Sun nor cloud of no significance.
He and the ripples roil in place.
Balance steady,
life extended in expanding arcs.
Self-contained voyager
an explorer of wide-open space
seeking new life within
the galaxy around his cast's orbit.

Trinkets for the natives hanging,
probing out into the cosmos awash.
The solitary helmsman sets his course-
third pool from the jutting tree.
Eager for first contact and dialogue, yet
enjoying the fluidity of the journey.

Each hour he stands erect,
lean, sturdy, trancendental and glorious.
A leather hat for a shield
a vest housing his wares for trade.
Nine foot of bamboo grandeur tipped aloft.
Solid sinews casts away his trials and tribulations,
laying off the worries of a faraway concrete world
onto a clear stream unknowingly eager
to carry that supine weight,
reduced now, to the gram of a fly,
atop its rolling shoulders.

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