River Poetry

by Julie Allyn Johnson


i.
 
I read a river poem
when I was a child; six, maybe seven.
Its waters ran long and clear and flowing.
Slender grasses lined steep banks;
they hid the muskrat,
the gander, the moccasin.
 
ii.
 
I read a river poem
when I reached young womanhood.
Such games that I played… Oh,
the person I sought to become.
Shallow waters: I thought them deep;
the current was swift.
 
iii.
 
I read a river poem
as each day’s hours diminished;
the nights, ever endless.
I saw the waters of the river then
as stagnant, opaque.
They brought me no joy.
 
iv.
 
I read a river poem
come this morning’s dawn.
Sun shines every day now, clouds or no…
Nights bring rest, regeneration.
Waters of the river          unchanged
still long and clear and flowing.


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Julie Allyn Johnson, a sawyer's daughter from the American Midwest, prefers black licorice over red, cigarette-size Tootsie Rolls and Hot Tamales, practically the perfect candy. Her current obsession is tackling the rough and tumble sport of quilting and the accumulation of fabric. A Pushcart Prize nominee, Julie’s poetry can be found in various journals including Star*Line, The Briar Cliff Review, Phantom Kangaroo, Haven Speculative, Anti-Heroin Chic, Coffin Bell and Chestnut Review.