Sangan River Meditations

Across the river, children
are eating snow, their lips
the colour of tiny kingfishers
in the numbing cold. The delight
they take in the melting of each
snowflake on their tongues reminds me:
joy is there, in everything, and even
when we can’t see it.

Snowflakes melt on my face,
a lifetime passes away.
The deep muttering of rocks
in the black river. Why am I
ill at ease?