by Mark Ferrari 


Discouragement is a wide, slow river

winding back across the plains

toward the distant mountains of my youth.


Hope is a wisp of morning mist

that drifts across the water,

poised to shred and dissipate at sunrise.


Desire is a song bird that flies above the river,

landing now and then among the swaying reeds nearby,

then lifting off, and out of sight again before I’ve seen it clearly.


Oh, singing bird and morning mist,

how I often wish the still, dark river

were as tenuous as you are.


And yet, that mist keeps rising in the mornings,

and that bird, or others like it, keep appearing overhead.

And I have still not tired of watching for them.