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If I’d known from the start
I’d return to this river bank
every year of my breath,
I might have made plans,
said yes to my bones
and the heron stalking the reed.
I could have worn the same coat
all these years, whatever weave
was fashion.  No move tentative.
Could have made myself clear
in every encounter,
in every important job
I’ve taken.  Said, I’ll stay
but I’m expected back.
Could have told all my lovers,
these are not my only rhythms.
Other weaknesses include
tears at noon, fish for supper,
this river.