Chalk dust coats dark skin and

I find it more stable than most things when

You are standing on the back of a cow in a river 

Trying to reach the piece of fruit that has floated just out of reach downstream.

I know we both see mountains peripherally but

How is it that while wars and design I cannot explain take over your tissues and my mind there

Is this most elegant thing behind and in front of and around us but all we are noticing is the boat sloshing us back towards the shore.

Bells ring and I think of Pavlov while you think of your Grandma Lee and how she turned 94 and then 95, but after that they stopped calling you telling you to write her on her birthday anymore.

I am left focused and wondering what reward there will be once I get that bit of mango out of the river. You see now and have moved on, wanting to shake down new fruits but I am still reaching into the water trying to salvage what is left after some creature already took half, leaving me the sweet ant covered portions.

It must be nice to not know, sometimes, exactly why the bells are ringing.