After ten days of celebrating National Poetry Month (via a glut of my own work 😉 ), I’m wrapping up today with one last poem. It’s the longest one in the book, I think, and it’s the only one I’d call somewhat autobiographical. Many of you know, I’m a nature lover at heart, and enjoy birding, hiking, camping, and for many years–until my back refused to cooperate–canoeing. I can’t tell you how many, many miles I’ve traveled via my trusty Bluebird, but it’s always been my favorite way to enjoy Florida’s rivers. So, this one definitely has a lot of “me” in it.
Thanks to all of you who have read, shared, and taken the time to let me know your thoughts on these little verses. It has been a real boost to my somewhat sagging spirits, as I struggled to get over this wretched cold. You are absolutely the BEST! Now without further ado, here’s my final National Poetry Month offering for your reading pleasure. Hope you enjoy it.
On the River
by Marcia Meara
Crystal green flows beneath me,
Leafy arches rise above,
Duckweed parts as I float by.
I wonder where they went,
Gone overnight, it seems.
Another parting, another loss,
And I slide by,
Under all that green.
Just there, in deepest shade,
Sleeping emeralds cling.
Tree frogs rest in their
Smooth, damp skins
Waiting for the silver moon.
They’ll open their eyes for the silver moon.
As I pass by.
With arms raised to that same moon,
I once danced along the shore,
Young and wild and full of joy.
Moving to music
That stirred my soul,
And washed in that pale light,
Years ago, in that pale, pale light.
I remember it all,
And so much more,
As I slide by.
A scaled ribbon of vivid lime
Scribbles across my bow,
Curving by in his own silent slide.
I smile at Dickinson’s “narrow fellow”
Tasting the air with his tongue of flame.
I feel no “zero at the bone” for him,
For I have known far worse than he,
With a nod of my head,
I pass him, too.
And on I go.
Time and time and time goes by,
And still, green fronds protect me from above,
Green water lifts me from below,
Carrying me ceaselessly on my way.
Slower, now that Youth is gone,
Yet, sometimes a froth of foam and spray
Reminds me of those early days,
When all the water rushed clear and cold,
And teemed with Promise so bright
You could almost catch it in your hands.
That bubbling spring where it all began,
Now lies so far behind.
Far behind, and long ago,
While I move on.
One stroke at a time,
The only path from Here to There.
One stroke following another,
And I, all the while,
Still cherish the trees above,
The water below.
I wonder as a turn grows near,
What adventures wait beyond the bend?
Will they make my heart beat fast again?
How many shimmering curves lie before me yet?
How long does my river flow?
Buy Summer Magic Here: Summer Magic: Poems of Life and Love
My poems have also appeared in the following Silver Birch Press Anthologies:
Noir Erasure Poetry Anthology (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 5) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2B8jhWX
Summer: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 3) Kindle http://amzn.to/2BhzE4q
SILVER: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2A3XxPb
Green: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (Silver Birch Press Anthologies Book 2) Kindle Edition http://amzn.to/2jTQsdt