Now we know all the secret paths
along the river. Today the ravens are gone,
so are the butterflies which jeweled
the sand. Graffiti defaces the rock,
and trash, too much for us to clean up,
covers the little beach where we
once were alone. We have forgiven
each other so much that forgiveness
hardly matters anymore, the bats
softly flitting around us, skimming
the water, as the skyline
begins to glow, the pure,
intense moon rising behind
a bare oak, its terrible craters
so clear in the cold, still air.
Go to the shore.