The River

There is a new person by the river. Near the start of my walk with my dogs, Gina and Charlie, is a black woman sitting on the same bench each morning. She looks out at the water. She doesn’t notice us until I step on a dry brown leaf. Her face spreads with a beautiful smile as we say hello. At first I think she is one of the homeless people who sleep on the concrete benches along the river’s edge. Then I look more closely. She is nicely put together. She carries an open large fabric bag that appears to hold clothes. She has no bedding as the other homeless people do. Her black hair is neatly swept up in the back and her clothes are clean and neat. On our way back the woman is gone.