River-Fed

At 8 p.m. the sun's still high;
The burbling creek is rushing by.
I sit out on my little deck
And watch a songbird hop and peck.

The tall thin evergreens stand guard,
Protecting my just-one-night yard
In case this peaceful reverie
Is spoiled by something I can't see.

How far superior this view
From mine back on York Avenue,
But that's what traveling is for -
To see what lies beyond your door.

Reluctantly, I close the shades
Before the sunlight even fades.
Exhaustion draws me off to bed -
My dreams await me, river-fed.