The river isn’t quiet today.
In Indiana, floods have covered streets,
washed out seed corn,
frightened old women
who watch muddy water
bubble out of holes in their driveways.
The river wants to go home.
It’s tired of silt-laden bends
and lazy fish floating in shady nooks.
This river dreams of mighty ocean swells,
of oxygenated layers deep under the surface
where fancy jellyfish spin in delighted bubbles.
The river will have what it wants
because it wants what it surely will have.
If it wanted world domination,
or a mansion in Miami,
it might learn to live with disappointment or regret.
But this river only wants the ocean.
Ahhh, but to have such clarity of purpose. Tis so easy to get caught up in looking at the ground in front of my toes that envisioning a concise and noble destination becomes unimaginable. And so, gravity and canyon walls steer my course, as well. I guess any path is just another a path. We dowse the soil where ever we meander, and the ocean patiently awaits us all, at the end.
ReplyDeleteThis is beautiful at the surface and profound in the deeper context. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI like the power of the last line and the idea of the river longing for the ocean
ReplyDeletebeautiful...forever homeward bound...aren't we all?
ReplyDeleteCurls beautifully like the ocean itself, and the man-made is there too.
ReplyDeleteA clever and beautiful write - thank you.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]