This morning begins silently with little light –
like a river at its mountain source,
just a pool of water flowing downhill –
gathering its kind in increasing potential energy.
A raindrop, seed, a newborn in spring.
The title of this poem is an aphorism by William Stafford. more info
Eridanus the River is faint tonight even
in this dark sky near Orion flowing
like the Nile, Euphrates or River Po.
Homer thought this River of Ocean encircled
a flat Earth, flowing, burning into eternity.
Like the mixing salt and fresh water
making it not favorable for either species,
we have come to a brackish place —
marsh grass obscuring our view, and we,
like young crabs, hiding from imagined predators.
Reading in circles by the lake watching
a lone bee settles on a puddle
birds using the shore as a bath
while a stream flows into the lake
which drains by river to the sea.
I flow today like this two-hearted river.
My energies come from two different places
in my past that should have passed,
but they have pooled around me today.
I’m trying to empty them. Dissipation. Loss.
The most famous Two Hearted River runs through Michigan and the branches drain into Lake Superior. That’s not my two-hearted river.