from shore her canoe looks empty,
like driftwood
winding and bobbing
in the wrinkled clear water.
She stares up
into the bold blue background,
admires scattered wisps of white cotton.
Her perfect peace
is interrupted only by the soft
bump
bump
bump
of the smooth gray rocks beneath her,
and the pointed
tap
tap
tap
of the determined woodpeckers above her.
She closes her eyes,
lifts her arms and places her hands
around the smooth wooden edges
of her sliver of hope.
Copyright Hope A. Horner, 2013. Use with permission only. Contact author on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/hopeh1122 Follow on Twitter @HopeNote
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