I can recall everything: the river going with me,
you guys staying, shaking water off your fur
like beavers. You have remained surprised
until the very end, stranded, shoulder to shoulder,
protecting your little dams built for private needs.
Much ado about nothing: the river simply decided
to go. It was horrible to watch the entire nature,
including those things that usually follow beaten
paths, suddenly starting to show their own will
and – for no reason and in no reaction to anything –
coming to a decision that will soon become our destiny.
It was hard to believe that one thin sickle could ever
reap the night to the very last inch of darkness,
thick hairy darkness that fills in the space between
you and me, you and all the objectives we had missed
yesterday, only to have them close at hand tomorrow.