By Jason Gray

              Johnson, Vermont

A mink lives below, though 
I have not seen it slink like 
A black handwritten note 
Across the riverbank.

The water, as it heads 
Over its rocks and the logs 
Leftover from a flood 
That brought the river nearly 
To the topside of the bridge,
Falls back on itself.

The morning fog retreats
To smolder on the hilltops.
I do not know what lives there
Hiding in invisible ink.

~~~

Jason Gray is the author of Radiation King and Photographing Eden. He hosts the podcast Drunk as a Poet on Payday and teaches at UNC-Chapel Hill.