Content with the Rustling

Man in boat, alone with book,
Sighs mightily. Looks skyward.

Mallards, in pairs, sail close,
Circling for bread, expectant.

Clouds above, seek resolve, then
Resoundingly, give their load a rest.

Humble water leaps, so tickled, and
Time, meanwhile, whispers advice to

Cattails: souls who look, circle, seek
Should rest, content with the rustling.

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Filed under nature, philosophy, poem, poetry, stream of consciousness, water, weather

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