The river does not wait.  Surrounded by banks,
rich in the currency of willows and tadpoles, it moves 
as the tempo changes.  Lulled by the summer heat,

rushed by winter cold.  I sit and watch from the
edges of dirt-hued patches, toes dangle to
catch that constant go – wishing

it swam backward.

"rich in the currency of willows and tadpoles"!  Yeah!

I love the ending too.

Rick

"wishing

it swam backward."


excellent!

stansberger!
i can't agree with you more.  this is really good stuff here.

Michele, I think this is splendid and it's a pleasure to pick it.

I believe the term I want to use is caesura. Expertly used here. The poem eddies and flows like the river.

Thank Rick, John and Lavonne - there's hope for some new work from me yet.....

funny, anyone notice that no matter where I roam, I always end up back at that river?

xo M

Lovely, and I think very well written. I like the idea of "current" in "currency."  I am not quite sure why the river is rushed in river, though I know when it is iced-over and Spring comes, it rushes.

I also like the freshness and appropriateness of "swam" -- making the river do what a person does.

This is very nice, particularly the ending. (Very Cronk, by the bye.) I like the shape, but for some reason, I want to see your (beautifully dense) lines carved up more and redistributed according to the strength of individual phrases. But don't take that comment too seriously =)

Take care,

-O