At River's Edge

At River’s Edge
At river’s edge
It’s autumn
Hot, dry
River life
Thrust for relief
Neither stream nor spring
Trickles or gurgles
Day by day
From the river
New stones rise
Leaves of color
Become lonely drifters
To sink
Into jagged patterns
In quiescent eddies
To depths
Of cold ashen gray
Gradually
Cool evening begin
To steal your warmth
Then without warning
Like a thief in the night
A cold north rain and wind
Strips branches leafless
It will not be long until
Soft, white, fluffy flakes
Settle into depressions
Of fox paw impressions
At river’s edge
Through cracks
Of the old barn
Winter slowly creeps
Dark gray clouds
Brings blowing snow
Blurring fields and forest
Whitening everything
Before the eyes
Nothing stands out more
Than the old black crow
Frozen leaf bowls
With snow-laced borders
Curl in Victorian designs
Snow covered moss
Drapes from high Palisade ledges
A jaded river reflects
Long flowing shimmering images
On snowy cold winter nights
From snow covered cliff dens
The fox, coyote and bobcat
Leave intentions by their tracks
While on cold, clear, starry nights
The muskrat, otter, and beaver
Play in the moonlight
At river’s edge
Warm sunny afternoons
Are promises of spring
Longer, warmer days
Slowly weakens winter’s grip
Ice covered Palisade ledges
Slowly begin to thaw
Ice, boulders
Rocks and pebbles
Tumble,
Crashing to river’s edge
Blue dogbane
And the trout lily
Give hope to nature’s rebirth
From the river’s edge
A lone honeybee drinks
Branches of river maple
Emit a hazy, green tent
On lichen,
Moss covered ledges
Wildflowers flourish
And river meadows
Await the return
Of the web architects,
Meadowlark
And butterfly
At river’s edge
Lazy, hot, humid days
In misty purple haze
Is the essence of summer
River meadows become
Canvases of living art
In floral display
On high, dry cliff ledges
Cling gnarled,
Weathered cedars
In the river
Trout stay low
Carp swim slow
It’s the season
For thunderstorms
The song of the cicada
Warm gentle showers
Nights with shooting stars
Masked raccoons
And big round moons
Nature’s gifts
Should not be
Wasted or abused
Taste the nectar
Hear the wind
Touch the water
Savor the view
It will all change again soon
Pick the flower
While it is in full bloom


Roy L. Nave
The Dix and Kentucky Rivers
Rivers I see out my window
Garrard County, Ky
October, 2002