Ode to the Awakening River by Sheryl Wing.
The mighty river awakens, slowly
gathering speed as the sun grows stronger.
The ice groans, as if the melting were painful.
Imagine the black water beneath, never freezing.
Large fish swimming deep under the thick, snowy ice.
What does it feel like, the cold black water?
What else lurks beneath, in the dark channel below?
Death comes quickly now for the ice, and
The river grows with each melting drop.
The water swirls, carrying bits and pieces of the places it’s been.
Imagine the muddy water bursting fiercely, newly awakened.
The spring river rushes on, caught up in the moment.
No time for idle contemplation, such is the curse of youth.
Swelling, absorbing, consuming all that she touches.
Faster now, rising by the hour, she becomes a giant.
Raging through the land, demanding respect from all
who are drawn to her presence, all who cannot draw themselves
away.
Imagine a need to be close to her, to live in her presence.
Her cycle is constant. Take comfort here my child,
She whispers, in the rustling brush on the waters edge.
Stand here , feel my spirit and I will touch yours.
