Choptank River

A poem.

(A small tidal river on Maryland's Eastern Shore)

There are times
when nothing needs to change:
no other voice than a breeze
through eel grass, no music
but the creaking of oars
and the faint whine
of a kamikaze mosquito.

Then the telephone's ring
is not for you
nor the screeching kids
or that anxious female cry.
You remain
a dark silence
on marsh water

B.R. Strahan