the stranger at the river

and sometimes we have to recall where we come from, 

that thick part in our veins that reminds us where we get our oxygen and reason and footsteps to 

just go.

Last night I found myself down at the river.

And happenstance found me writing a letter full of pressed tension and heart.

It was nights like last night that God and I play tug-o-war. 

Snot falling from my nose, beauty mixed into the pink sunset, and the calm of my pen.

Interrupted 

by the scent of a stranger.

"Good evening, madam" -said stranger

"Hello" - said I

and the conversation continued unexpectedly for the better part of an hour.

We talked about the meaning of life, found ourselves in the small world of old rival high schools, 

and expressed notions of seasons both changing and undone. 

Then our feet and the darkness took us to our own corners

but I'm certain of this, 

that stranger at the river might have saved a moment in my very small, but eternally beautiful life.

Thank you,

M.