The River
The banks of a newly-born tributary
Neatly interrupt the path
Between our quaint cottage
And the old corner mansion.
I’ve peered across its calm surface,
Without leaving my doorstep,
The steam from my morning coffee
Giving rise to ghosts
That skate out and greet the fog
Billowing out and enveloping it.
On night-time strolls,
I swear I’ve heard the moon
Whisper and cajole
Me to wade in
And explore the world beneath.
“In the deep you’ll find what you seek,”
The stars chime in, a concert
Of celestial encouragement.
Indeed, I’ve seen hints
Of magnificence,
Fish with vibrant fins
Fanning out like scarves in the wind.
And when I’ve dared to inch closer,
Mere steps from the embankment
My watch ticks in slow motion,
The True Nature of Things
Translucent at this pace.
On that summer day
Or evening, I’ve forgotten,
From across the way
I thought I saw you nod to me,
“Go on, jump in!”
But my feet hesitated - maybe it was just
A simple nod hello? -
Unnaturally rooted
In such muddy earth.
Months passed before I’d see you again,
My old friend,
And our shared stream
Had hardened with ice.
“It’s just a thin layer,
Happy to help you, my dear,”
Said the sun, beaming brightly
Down on us, her rays revealing
Faint glimmers of golden creatures
Thriving down beyond the frost.
Curiosity piqued, I bared myself
Before you, grinning impishly,
And stepped with naked feet,
As if cracking through eggshells,
To plunge into
The searing wet coldness.
Fright topped with delight
I swam toward your side
To usher you in,
But my words were killed dead
In the silence.
Still, you gazed my way
So I plead with a look,
But try as I might
I could not find
My reflection in your eyes,
And the nearer I drew
The further you retreated
Shrugging not with fear
But indifference.
Alone, I shivered and wept,
For the river had at last shown
That it merely brimmed with dark ice
And not mystical secrets.
But upon climbing out,
I found reason to grin,
For now I can say:
At least I jumped in.
Posted Apr 4, 2018, 7:56 AM UTC · edited