along our pond 12/27/2007 Move then softly and swiftly the way you might want to come to me to show me the careful way we’ll walk along our afternoon pathway together to see how it might this time be more than water leaves and air, a pond drifting its own way here beneath this lifting vivid light, each slender tree waiting white and clear.

Poetry by William F. Buford Copyright © 2004-2007 William F. Buford. All Rights Reserved.