Low clouds and the slate-
colored river glimpsed
through the trees, the train
jolts into the day.
A day like this compresses
your thoughts into scraps, I said.
One day’s like any other,
they flicker along silver
like that river, she said.
Until the water breaks around
rocks or heaves up with
tidal surge, I said.
The water marries the clouds,
they billow along together, she said.
Lead on lead, I said.
Look at the clouds again, she said.
Look at the water.
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