More Than Water

February 20, 2014 § 2 Comments

She is summer sunlight gleaming off the water
and she is the river singing over stone
and she is the wheel and call of seabirds.

The river is more than water.

Do not be deceived by churning rapids
or still pools, nor by the glimmering cascade
of the waterfall. Water is not all that the river is.
It carries memories of its birth at mountain springs,
of all the terrain travelled by its winding course,
silt and mineral and leaf all blending into richness
for the life teeming in the shaded depths
and the rock clefts, the shallows and pockets
of changing temperature, the swell of spring melt
and the fertile silt banks of low summer droughts.

She is all this and more:
mountains and prairie in her bones
the ocean in her heart
the river in her blood.
Sunlight and summer-fire burns in her hair
and her eyes are the clear crystal of the frozen pond.

She moves like rushing snowmelt and Beltaine fire,
shimmering, shining, unmistakable –
but glamour conceals as much as it attracts
like the white summer glare on the water
brightening the surface and hiding the shifting depths within.

The river is more than water.

Do not be deceived by playfulness and bright laughter
as genuine as it is, too many confuse such for childish –
yet child-like is not the same as child-ish
and a keen mind dwells in the depths, a striving and
insatiable curiosity, a hunger for knowledge,
for variety of experience, to hear and taste and see and feel
all that the world has to offer. A keen mind and a gentle heart
beating minnow-quick with passion to heat the blood
that is the river within her, her soul filled with ocean mystery,
even as her feet tread the sun-drenched bones of the earth.


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