Wandering like water

Sat down on cold stone steps
high on a mountain
in his plain clothes
he waits.

The wind brushes past him,
he hears it rustle
the silent leaves overhead
and he breathes in.

A water droplet falls from a leaf above,
drops onto his head,
runs down his face
and he breathes out.

A seed falls from a nearby tree,
bounces beside him
on the grey steps.

Tap

Tap

Tap

Now it is at rest.

Unlike the world around them.
Out of sight.
Out of mind.

He smiles
and bathes in a river
that he cannot see.

A short poem I wrote that I hope is enjoyable and not too prose-y.

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