1:00 a.m. in August, Down by the Fraser River

1:00 a.m. in August, Down by the Fraser River

Summer earlier today was sticky with no wind relief,
But now the Fraser is glassy, unmoving, dark, cool.
A tugboat on a quiet quiet midnight mission,
Passes by and slightly disturbs the water.
The lights across from me on Mitchell Island
Start to wave their reflections in the gentle wake,
Lazy wiggly zigzags.
A nearby log is at first silent, then picks up a slow slosh,
Long ripples advance toward me barely touching the rocks,
In the darkness a hidden bird calls out once and follows the boat.

I don't look at the streetlights behind me,
and city briefly becomes country, in my own way.


(I had to delete all comments because of a horrid company called "Interfinancial Holdings" that left reams of soliciting on this post.)