On the West Bank

Egrets rest on river sand near a rusting bridge.

Today I choose to quiet the internal dialogue,
listening instead to what is external. 

I hear the silver song of Spring’s young birds composing harmony.
A fish does a full flip in the air before plopping back in the water.
A downy woodpecker chips away at the bark of a tree, 
working hard for its dinner.
A rooster crows in the distance, 
while in the dry, swamp thicket a goose waddles its way back to the river.
It's a good day.