The rivers are doing their spring thing. Couldn't capture a good picture today, but it was a stupendous day to be out!
Grey
gushes
heaving
so high
tumbling
down
leaving
the hills
and mountains
ignoring great
cleaving boulders
steeving rocks and banks
reeving bridges and dams
weaving its way
seeking the relative serenity
of the sea
I linked the words in the poem to the FreeDictionary. Steeving and reeving are both nautical terms. Steeving is when the boat's hull is up above the horizon. And reeving means to pass (a rope or cable) through an eye or other narrow opening!
I haven't gone by the river yet, but we made a brief stop at the house, and as we came up to the porch to come inside...what should flit by us and alight on our porch, but a beautiful Nymphalis antiopa (or Mourning Cloak) butterfly! Gorgeous and the first one of the season!
Oh that water is roiling! You have several terms in this poem that I am not familiar with, so I'll be googling them. I will check back to see if you were successful on your picture hunt.
ReplyDeleteI just love the way this poem sits on the page...and the ways the words seem to gush, river like.
ReplyDeleteI can imagine the river coming down, just by the poem's arrangement, Donna, but also we have that spring runoff in the mountains that your poem reminded me of. The butterfly is awesome-a new one to me-not in our habitat. Lucky you!
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