Along the river bank,
Behind the trees,
lay a small heart-shaped pond,
fenced with moss- grown stones.
Near the pond, I lay on my beach chair
smelling the wet leaves.
A man, with a white helmet on, was canoeing North West
leaving water trail marks behind.
With its tail flapping, a fisherman just placed a gold fish,
inside the Bamboo weaved fish basket.
A black headed Geese swam spreading,
ripples on the water.
The river waves moved gently lapping the shore.
Near the shoreline, a lady dog walker,
bended over to scoop its poop as big as Sikh kabob.
The crosswind raised her hairline.
A black crow perched on weather-beaten,
paddle boats signaling an arrival of good news.
The mid-afternoon sun streaked through the trees onto the river,
Sparkling water ripples and eddies.
On the other side of the river, a row of winter trees nestled by the river,
guarding the shoreline.
The smell of dead leaves, the smell of forest humus, the sting of winter on my skin,
Everything reminds me of the river.