Chills


You are not forbidden, nor unwanted...in fact
You're very much welcome.
But still you must be quiet here.
It seems rather disrespectful to cut
Into the peace with foolish noises.
The wood will always be so cold it seems wet,
And you'll swipe your hand across before you sit.
Rusty red boats bob patiently and nudge
Against the dock, the rocks in the shallows.
When you look to the water- the thing you thought you
came for-
You'll find it urging you to lean back, gaze upwards instead
To its brother.
The crystal lights are so much brighter at their source.
Oddly enough, the outlines of cell towers, with all
Their looming uprights and dipping threads, do not
Ruin the scene, but rather frame it,
Providing a marker between the earth and heavens
You'll feel your heart quicken when a branch floating near
Is a bit too large, a bit too life-like,
But this will pass quickly, and you'll admit your renewed trust
By surrendering your bare toes
To the icy pool as a strangely comforting chill runs up
your spine.

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