The River’s Heart Is Cold
The river whispers to me as I walk along her banks,
She welcomes me into her depths but I stop and say, “No, thanks.”
She tells me she loves me and I almost believe it’s true,
Yet I know she’ll be fickle always and someday we’ll be through.
She shares the latest gossip she heard in meadows upstream,
I say the rumors aren’t the truth and they’re not as they seem.
She runs along beside me and her excitement she can’t conceal,
And she makes me vow secrecy for reasons she doesn’t reveal.
Her playful moods change rapidly especially after a pouring rain,
Angrily she gouges out channels when her banks don’t contain.
I would claim her as my own but her spirit runs wild and free,
She murmurs she loves me too but she’ll never belong to me.
I’ll be there to clean up her debris when clearly she’s to blame,
The river‘s heart is too cold to trust but I love her just the same.
- The Good Deed (a Halloween story) (danroberson.wordpress.com)
- remembering nana talia (plaridel.wordpress.com)
- The Fishing Report – Jan. 4, 2013 (redding.com)
- Rain strands trampers on Milford Track (nzherald.co.nz)