In September On The Rhine

In September On The Rhine

by Ralph Lynn Weld

at the river crossing near Bruhl
where the gazebo stood at water’s edge
we put our feet on its tired wooden rails
for a long moment
and listened to a barge moving
a wall of water,
its bow spreading and pushing in between,
the diesel chugging
until it passed the bend
and what remained was silence
and a cool wind on our arms and thighs
that made us shiver and laugh when we
caught each other’s eye.


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