shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Roger Jones



Walk down the road a little ways. Follow the river
back into the small larches where no one else goes,
not even lone hikers. Go out on the gray ledge
by the creek, and a little farther. You'll come to
the neat outcropping where we used to kneel,
all the city noises almost out of earshot.

Think water sound. Think late fall evening.
Think of quiet mind going farther still,
following the creek, two or three more
visible bends in the river. There. That's where
the soul slipped away those days just to compose itself.