Middle River

It was easy to hire a small boat to take me across the first river.

I approached the man who straddled the side of his boat.

He was the proud, obvious owner of the small vessel.

Decked out in different shades of brown, with an unkempt white beard.

He wore a dark blue corduroy cap with small brass snaps that snapped to nothing.

The cap seemed to be too snug for man of his size, while everything else in brown seemed to fit well.

He looked as though he stepped out of a mail order catalog for fly-fishing wear or a backpacker’s guidebook to Alaska.

With a sturdy yet muffled and raspy deep voice, as if he smoked for many years and has many stories to tell,

He asked if I wanted to cross the river, "Do you want to get to the other side?"

I replied "Yes, how much?"

The third river was more difficult to cross.

This river was the merging run off between two great mountain regions.

Given that it was the annual spring thaw, the river was raging, as if escaping its winter bondage

Rapidly gushing, washing away, and bringing down crushed boulders to lower ground

The river was ever changing, as the powerful water would indiscriminately carve new bends

On each new turn, earth was on earthed, and earth was discarded

Animals small and large, would come to the river edge in search for food and water

Carefully, they dodge being a victim of the fierce pounding against the banks

As I walked up and down along the river, it took quite a few weeks where I finally found a way to pass

And the discovered way to pass was easier than crossing the first river

The middle river was calmer than the first and sat still unlike the third river.

It was as if there was just a huge pane of glass that blanketed the ground

Slickly mirroring the innocent sky above that we each gaze upon

I could easily see my reflection in it and as I looked closer

I could see the bed, with no pebbles, no stones, and no rocks

No plants, no fish, and no sand. 

It seemed to just have a black bottom that didn’t reveal how deep it actually was.

There was no boat to cross with. No bridge to walk upon. And no obtainable solution for a crossing.

The middle river was impossible to cross

© 2015 David Greg Harth

15.03.26.02:20:00@130BklynNYC