Sometimes the River surprises
In the middle of the spike of a summer day
That is baking the emergent flat boulders
When it sends a soft, mossy breath of cool affection.
Sometimes it rattles the visual perception
Out of its habitual normalcy
Shaking loose blind focus
Opening an expansive circumspherical view.
Sometimes it dulls its persistent, insistent growl
Fighting with itself to reach the sea
Crafting its personality in the remnants of mountains
Leaving space for something old that is new now.
Sometimes the lasering sun reflections that burn the retinas
And leave permanent and shadow impressions;
That obscure simple seeing with winceful pain,
Offer an easeful invitation to penetrate assumptions about the nature.
Sometimes in the quietest of the middle evening pitch,
Where the rapid roar becomes a drone
And the accompanists of all beings rest,
It trembles the bones through the tympanic bank and shore leaving me undone.
Sometimes the River