River

Across the street from my house, the river begins to churn. It rolls under a couple of bridges then surges over a dam before racing to Little Traverse Bay. All this white froth coughs its angry way to the surface, but underneath I can see stones, smooth and calm and perfectly still.

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “River

  1. I thought you said you don’t write poetry anymore… this is quite beautiful. It reminds me a bit of Mary Oliver.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s