A house skeleton crouches by the river.
A kayak blends water with sky
making a place for someone to see between.
Four fishing poles lean in and listen.
A cruiser, like a fat white fiberglass
duck chugs upriver.
In between, the wake waves remember for a while, then don’t.
Cormorants use the river
for an air cushion,
heading downriver for urgent appointments.
Nothing much happened today.
Except the river, unlike Orpheus,
lived its life without looking back.