Carrying a Bag

Carrying a bag of

batteries and face cream

and light bulbs and

toilet paper

 

I stop to watch the river

move around the flat rocks

and feel

like I am moving too

 

The light changes and

the smell of hot dry leaves

fills the air

 

The bag grows inconvenient

as I want to spend

the afternoon walking

in the woods and listening

to the changes in the season

 

A twig snaps

under the weight of a crow

who, startled, leaps above the tree.

What Freedom!

 

 

by Diane E. Dockum