The first storm in weeks that felt redemptive. Not Fall or Fall adjacent. But there was something almost flirty: the way it brushed past, pushed to the Indiana side of the river; then at the water tower wrapped back over bringing a curtain of rain.
Category Archives: river life
Hello my name is and I am
After the cruise I am standing on the north end of the wharf, smoking my pipe. This is my communion with the river. I give it my joy. I give it my pain. It is older and wiser than me. My back to the city that resembles less and less each day the place I moved to 11 years ago. Home. The cityscape is a crime scene left to rot. That scimitar moon watching over, bending my eye back towards the river. This kiss of fall, one of those teases. I give my resentments to the river, the way I learned in AA meetings. Hold onto nothing or it will hold on to you. I allow my mind to empty with the pipe smoke dissipating in the sunset air.
that polite nod that’s so out of fashion now
The white heron’s visit
is always a good sign.
Though she does not stop
to talk, we cross currents
along the river like
two familar strangers
in a coffee shop.