The water is gone.
I tried to pool some into a cup, but
it is not there to be cupped.

I walk the forest
with last year’s stream in my mind
but the creek bed is dry.

Now I am upstream
and each turn is a lesson as to how
all sounds are echoes

coming through the hills
from somewhere further afield.
I think of walking on

although today
the further into woods I might walk
the further it seems to be.