Root your feet in river soil
left by last winter’s rising,
as the languid waters
laze in autumn torpor
before what’s sure
to fall again.

Look across the liquid swath—
today muddy, tomorrow cobalt—
flowing south, and think of
where it begins, 222 miles
north of two cities that
bear its name,

its headwaters rooted in
mountains soon to melt
into white, stretching
its long self 384 miles,
snowmelt and springs
from four mountain
ranges feeding it.

We take it for granted,
this ever-moving spirit,
forget to acknowledge
this ever-flowing border
meandering between
our two cities,
our two counties,
one people.

•••

(With my deep thanks to photographer Joe Chan for his many years of sharing his stunning images.)