By the green river,
you suspend your silence
to discuss matters,

the big
and the not so big,
and this is why

the riding of bikes
with a good friend
is so joyful –

the togetherness, but also
the alone

as you fly
on the edge of recklessness
past the boulder

and the cactus
that imbedded itself
in your thigh last spring.

It is in the resting
where the sweetest stories
are woven,

and where
you might notice
three white butterflies

who dance together
before becoming
two again.


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