Confluence
Beneath the milky aufeis
and the weaving glacial fan,
river water runs in a tumbling hum,
unraveling winter with sound.
We stir from our dens,
crossing winter by spring,
braiding valleys with tracks in the sand.
Ursine and inky, we flow past dry duff
to sit, dazzled,
in the thrum.
As the sun sparks in our coats,
the ice cracks and bobs,
ringing out iridescent bells.
Melting is
a building —
every voice matters
in the music of water
and stone.
How long have you sifted, rushing ahead,
chasing the echoes behind you?
Your song is here,
in your immutable
whole —
the infinity in a drop of your
now.
You are the current,
splendid, sweeping,
inevitable as a bear
in spring.
We long to hear you, to see you,
to feel you,
pulled to the confluence
in all things.
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“ursine”…. I always love your word choices which is how poetry should always be.
Thank you, Estora 🙂
Beautiful! I feel the pull.
Yes! Thank you, Laura
Oh so wonderful, “inevitable as a bear in Spring”… love this line and the rushing then abruptness I feel as I read your words. I’ve lived through a number of Alaskan Springs and I felt the same rush/abruptness while living through those days too. Thank you for the memories and the gift of reading this collection of words.
Thank you, Carrie! Your comment means so much.