Trusting

I passed
this small fall before
and now here I am again
in the darkening night,
the stream still flowing and talking,
still breaking and bubbling white
and will be all through the night
though none sees or hears,
the rock cradling the brown waters
as they hang smooth as beer
then fall laughing and frothing
over its bony arm.

In another place
the dark is hiding
the soft contours of my children’s faces
blown by sleep,
breathing the seconds of the night
as they pool in dreams
then rush sparkling away.
And I must trust
this flow will not fail
though I do not watch or wait,
held by arms I cannot see,
carrying secret memories.