| Occasionally the water rushes noisily Over the rocks Then quiets The river Is of many minds Today Currents quick and slow Whirlpools Churn beneath Its glittering skin It smells of wet and rot. the water level is low Lowest i can remember Allowing me to walk Where water typically Fills channels Leaving stands of trees today on the shore's edge That were yesterday on islands Trunks stand On exposed roots Like legs. Scaley cracked This newly dry clay I walk on Is a Lunar Landscape And Alien, is the boulder Tugging at The corner Of my eye. Drawn closer I see It's an ancient Little straight six car motor And transmission Two wheels and some frame A curl of bumper Like bark A branch of axle All Solid rust As organic As an ant hill "How did it get here?" The wind is cold the sky twists and writhes Light and dark. The river And I Are of many minds Currents Quick and slow Whirlpools rising And submerging Noisily Then quietly Beneath glittering skin |
poem by Edward Covannon