The Boat Maker

Once on a side channel far from
the main flow of the river
where the clever ones never go
I met the boat maker.

Only few knew that he made boats,
tiny boats of paper,
folded in intricate designs and
let free upon the water.

Once he let me come with him in
the cool, early morning.
He watched his small boats float away
and sink without mourning.

I live close by now in the woods
and sometimes he comes with me
to sing in the lonely places
and let the wild words free.