On the River
Somewhere, beneath the white noise of the water,
It moves sedately, secretively
Shouldering the reckless action of the river.
If for contrast, as in all great design,
A quiet pool must lie ahead.
Shards of light seem
To obstruct the way there.
Stones bruised by stones, molded by heat
Offer a respite for the way upstream.
Upheavals of gold, ochre, burnt umber
Cater to the sleek body streaked with red.
But, shadows are cast upon its path.
An ancient people of mountain and river,
Now, as before,
Fishing under the long sun of summer.
Sherry Salari Sander