A lush summer storm: raindrops
falling to their knees like a man

kissing his lover’s body
before joining it. The river

likes it rough. Silt stirred up
from all the rushing. Wade

into the middle and rapids
whitewater at your hips as if

they were a boulder. Stumble
and the current pulls you close.

The river wants to rock you
in a whirlpool, wants to hold you

all night long.

WHAT THE RIVER WANTS Mary Ardery


Photo used under CC.