The Old Man

The Old Man

The old man paused on the bridge
a favorite stop
upstream of the lazy oxbow

where a boy once watched 
the milky gold 
of evening sunlight  

spill through the alders
into empty space 
over still water

its silent weight
filled the air

suspended dragonflies 
patrolling the cattails

urgently

as if they knew 
the lateness of the hour.