Poetry: "Close Enough to Touch"

You walk on riverbeds,
sink a little with each step,
you're ankle deep in clay,
clouded furrows trail behind,
with currents rolling past
crawdads and memories creep
back in among the rocks,
all that's left is the march
downstream, watching refractions,
searching for the telltale
flicker, a brilliant flash
of blue, signalling the sky
close enough to touch.