Three dogs barked. A field of yellow lilies trembled in a breeze. The bridge settled in silt at the bottom of the Sandy River.

                                                                    There will be more, I am sure.

           The way a woman in the department store ran

her fingertips over each garment hanging from the children’s clearance rack

                                                                               as disappointment is a fountain

as the world must tumble, continuously

           and as a man and woman pass the hours they have left together arguing over shades of separation and ice.

           Instinct to remain. Instinct to protect. And love?

                                                                                There is more than life to the flood of it.