Log Cabin Chronicles

The river's return


With the rains
the river's white waters return,
smoothing the cracked soil,
running, churning strongly.

The canoes await
at the river's rim,
tied to brown branches
of leafless trees.

The grey heron stands
on one foot
upon floating dead vines
and dreams of fish.

Young women
wash their bodies.
Boys, glancing, stumble.

Scattered colorful clothes dry
on the skeletal old branches
where a sugarcane field
once waved.

Footprints on soft black soil,
dig trails between
wooden houses and river,
reopening paths in the grass.

The river, reborn,
grows rapidly,
promising life,
promising green.

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Copyright © 1996 Rosa Clement/Log Cabin Chronicles/07.96