Clark Fork River

This road is bordered
by willows and quaking
aspen shaking light
on shallow water.

Stones rest like red
coins in the riverbed.
I cross this river again
and again, bridge after

bridge. It cuts and winds
through cottonwood
groves and pine forests.
Or is it this road that bends

and turns, twisting its way
along a straight-backed
river. This paved road.
Its narrow painted line.

Comments

[Patry]

A poem that calms, enlivens, and then surprises. Also one that seems to speak to my current mood.

[Dave]

After an hour of fruitless searching for a real poem in the pages of an old issue of APR, I come here and find this. Wonderful. Thanks.