2021: Hour Twenty-One -Ode to the South River

Wrapped in colors of sunrise, cloaked in morning mist, elegant mistress with your siren call — irresistible, and engaged without regrets.
Never do I wish I hadn’t stepped on your shores. Slipped in to your embrace.

Whether cold, dark, warm, or bright — no matter. Sure, I lingered at water’s edge a little longer at daybreak in October. When I finally put my face in the water, my breath whisked away,
forehead wrinkled with the pain of sinus and brain frozen, temporarily.

This is only testimony to my adoration.
There are plenty of days without frigid temperatures to be had.
It’s just that if entry is possible, I will not resist.

Every visit brings revelations and glorious experiences with nature, with friends, with self. I glide through the surface waters — some days are still glass and some bring the motion of hills crossing over you. The salt waxes and wanes.

The group close enough to be together but with space to thrive.The bright colored buoys bob across the water and mark each friend, each one dedicated
to sport or love of water.

Conditions ever-changing. Life greets us with osprey diving for meals, gulls circling and gliding nearby, and the one touchy, feely type that connects with burning irritation.
Not welcome, but tolerated, as the cost we pay to be in her presence.

Even with the jellies’ sting, I always am glad to swim in the South River.
The container, the medium, the place
for my communion with the water and the swimmers.

One thought on “2021: Hour Twenty-One -Ode to the South River

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *