Poetry by Ben Marder Over the surface, we wander along the river where forgotten leaves rest in dark pools now stuck on the shoreline. It occurs to us that this may be an unpleasant reality. Yet here a bird is content by the base of this bush, feet in the dark mud. He is a child of this sullen stream. I notice the bird has a light tied to his legs and the making of it all. Beyond the banks, colors rise. I catch myself moving along the eddies wondering about these complexities. How a bird's thoughts can feel like goosebumps on a child's tender skin. The eyes beyond his beak, flicker with dark leaps. It has gained the insight of how to let go of the dark corners of the earth, for we are not the keepers or makers of it all. From all directions, life speaks not weighed out in the rights or the wrongs but simply brought to the surface. A light on a boat passes by our noticing. The sky settles into the earthen clay of brick homes, and we wonder about who lives there. All along the banks, we hold onto our wonder.
© Ben Marder
