The River

From the banks of the Illinois River

 

The river is where I want.

She is gentle and sure

A mighty, fluid container

No traces of other humans

In sight nor sound,

Only the sun smiling hot on my back.

I gaze into the depths

Shallow but unclear how so

As the water laps translucently

At the grains of hard stone

And shimmering sand.

Rich

In minerals

In life

Intrinsically valuable

And yet there is no market for exchange.

I close my eyes to hear

Many different voice

Countless, and I focus on one and then another

In this solitude I am able to isolate each current

As a single voice in a choir.

I look to the bottom

Everything deposited

By time

Haphazard and just so.

I try to look closer

At the water itself

But what is water

And what is the life within it?

Can I see the wind?

Or only think what it whips?

I think in words but sometimes

The language of the river

Here and there just little glimpses.

The river is where I want to be

Where I want to connect and converse

The river is where I want for nothing.