in this peace place
sitting on the ornate green couch
by the front windows of the barn
impossible how quiet
how the leaves on the poplars
shimmer wildly but no sound
like a movie
a dip in the Willamette
as the shadows are getting long
the sun through the trees
over our right shoulders
the river is so swift
shimmering and quiet too
I see J look up from his drawing
at the sun’s etchy reflection
everyone knows we are in a movie
in the back of the pickup
in the dark field to see the stars
tailights make the field red
What would our movie be called?
Stand By Us?
Stand By We?
