i
The water that I’m standing in
tugs at my legs
and whispers her undying love.
The rocks and trees sing a longing chorus
with the Ousels and the Heron.
Come back to us…
or at least linger a while.
And I want to.
I want to let go and join
in communion with the water.
ii
I went to Niagara Falls once
and stood in a tunnel
underneath the thundering curtain, watching
even more though, listening
and feeling the water and the rock.
Hearing the Sirens call “Join us”.
A love song.
A pull, strong and without guile.
iii
I am older now and world worn.
I’ve capitulated and hidden away
the magic.
The wonder of two Bald Eagles un-afraid
watching me fish.
The astonishment of young Otters.
Walking playfully by me as I brew coffee.
the way the riverside playfully hid my backpack until
finally, at last light, I found it.
And I still ask, out loud, every day, “what
will you show me today?”
iv
I’ve imagined, on a frozen morning
that I have it all wrong.
Fishing, is actually the water
trying to catch me.
I resist, I fight, and I sometimes capture
A part of it, to then let it go.
To continue on without me.
v
So I haunt the banks and shores.
Always listening, feeling and seeing.
Not unhappy
but separate and distinct.
looking for an entry point, or a welcoming gesture
or a key to a doorway
that makes me whole again
like when I was a boy
and knew no better.
