The lone bench sits across from the river.
In dedication to a lover of its place.
One who has sat for time unknown to him.
Sifting thoughts together with the Earth.

At his feet, he falls with his tears.
On the mornings that the rain lets him cry.
In his hands, he has collected nothing.
Everything lives inside.

He rubs his thighs with the rhythm of the wind.
He opens his body to draw the light in.
The clapping of the leaves and the dancing of the life,
Keep both eyes eager, pacing left to right.

Below the ground where this bench now stands.
Our visitor buried his soul for this land.
In comfort, we sit proudly against his name.
May this place live to remind us—
None is better than what Nature proclaims.


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