Little River Falls

Jay Chambers

Resting against a pine tree 
a soft spring breeze passes by 
And tickles my cheek 

The blanket of pine-straw 
Doesn’t protect me from the moisture 
Of a winter-long rain 

A Bible lies open on my lap, pages fanned by the wind 
And the mossy turtle displaces a chunk of lichen 
As he moves on to the grass behind his rock.