The risen sun is hidden
clouds dark and dense
the air saturated and heavy
no creature is stirring
but a lone man in swimming shorts
walking through his garden
the long grass soaking his feet
as he inspects his resilient flowers
surrounded by exuberant weeds;
he leaves his garden, walking
past neglected trees and their wet vines
down to the river, disturbing a heron
its long wings shaking in irritation.
but for his splashing in the river.
but for the unseen rhythms of the river.