Musings of the River


Water. Sometimes blue and glittered by sun. At other times a foreboding grey, telecasting the weather to come. Or quiet, unmarred by a breeze. In step with the wind, it might be loud and wild, untamed. But now, a day of rain has painted it chocolate - dark and sweet, swift and deep. Irresistible.


The usual characters are not to be found on this day. The Otter and her kits remain in the backwater, the Mallard and Canada Goose are not dabbling in a once quiet current and the young Deer dare not tempt a wade less he be swept along in the stained water. Even Osprey is having trouble locating her fish in the muddy torrent from her quiet circle in the sky.  So the music of the river is accompanied by only the catbirds and thrushes singing from the brush covering the banks. The rushing water races by like blood through our own arteries, bringing life to all it touches, pumped by the heart of Mother Earth.


 The River is in his ‘inhale’. Full of energy, deeply cleaning his bed of branches and silt, coughing up the debris along the bank and driving his entire weight to his ultimate goal, the sea. The exhale comes later, much later as the River’s energy subsides slowly in a graceful peace, when his water is quiet and still yet very much alive.


 It is a slow rhythm; an echo of the pulse of Mother Earth. Slow and deliberate. Eternal. In step with a Higher Power that does not give attention to manmade time constraints. A visual reminder of Mother Earth’s breathe of life.


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