River Winding Through Winter (POEM)
She moves and bends, subtly,
Stoic beauty so inadvertently calming.
She is the blood of life.
She is eternal.
She is river.
Water winding mercifully,
Patiently bending with humanity’s turns.
Drifting along in silence,
Always reflecting back all that we are.
When I look above at this picture,
Do I fixate on snow and tree limbs lined
Starkly, like the black against white of the calligraphy pen?
No, indeed I do not.
Tis not the noisy monocromatics, of whites and blacks that catch me.
It is the metallic dramatic soliloquy
Of the river where my eyes go.
It’s as if she is talking to herself,
And also as if she is talking back.
Reflecting back to humanity.
The same wisdom she has shared with our ancestors.
Is the wisdom she continues to share with me.
Both speaking and reflecting,
Like all great mothers,
I feel her.
The silent intensity of her message I can sense.
Her inquisitive knowing I can feel in my bones.
Her radiant beauty winding through winter.
Indeed she is river.
The eternal life blood of our planet.
She is mother.
Oh, how I can feel her in my bones.
~ L. Davis, #thepoetfarmer
I write this poem late at night, looking at this picture and being struck by the power and majesty of this river. Can you see it too? Can you feel her? Truly powerful when one stops long enough to open up their eyes to nature.