missing the swimming hole

missing the swimming hole

even though the river is crystal green
riffling over gravel, swirling deep around rocks
tufts of new willow mint and cress
lace up the edges
cottonwood leaves, bright yellow
look like dorys in the current

even though my granddaughters
moan from the back seat
Let's stop Nonnie, and go swimming
We're so hot and the river's so pretty
remembering that last time, we did
parked at the foot of the No Parking sign

even though the river doesn't really care
doesn't seem to notice egrets and herons
swallows mosquitoes green leaves
merganzers mallards kingfishers coots
turtles and carp, pollywogs and minnows
gnat filled breezes moving downstream

even though it is November and the summer bridge
may expect to be dragged up to the bottom
of the No Parking sign on the east side
and the gravel bulldozed into winter configuration
disappearing the road and potholes
and it is time to bake orange vegetables and roots

even though the river was born in unamed watersheds
from trickling rivulets and seeping meadows
knows its own rhythem, its course and destination
seeks to unite and complete its cycle
recognizes its path running through striation
through gravel, under bridges to the last curve at the Pacific

even though keen brown eyes track a similar course
through generations dear faces, snap bright
firery sparks when provoked or angry or indignant
soften round with amazement, love at the sight of an infant
sibling, lover or a morning glory popped out in blue
tears rise at the closed iron gate. No Through Traffic
Road Closed at the Bridge

ccLPC