On a hilltop above my river
stirring beans and Bermuda loops,
watching the foiled trout blacken
on a small campfire,
I see a distant glow below,
where mosquitoes gather.

Separate camps
divided by night,
I wonder who sleeps there
and why the dark is a wall
between us.

The river
talks to each of us, but we
may not talk to each other,
this law immutable.