Kaw River: From the levee

Orion fades in front of me,

Venus smiling over my left shoulder.

There is some dark reflection

but mostly the sound

of the rushing water, water

falling, rushing over, water

over the steps of the dam.

The sound masks the music -

no – it’s the noise of the few cars

crossing the bridge,

headlights last gleaming,

the age exhausted.

The river offers no reproach,

but it speaks, in tones too high

for prairie dogs, in tones too low

for human ears.

Humankind speaks of persistence,

of perseverance. The river

speaks of patience.

It will carry the water,

the waters of waters,

it will carry the soil

of the banks

that the river carves from its banks.

It will carry all down to the sea.

But it will not carry our waste,

our chemicals, our carelessness,

willingly.

And one day –

the river will wait

as long as it must wait –

it will not have to carry us.

We will be gone.

And the sound of river

will sound only of the river.

The river will only be.