Miriam Di Fiore

For the Rough River

Every morning, every night, for the last seven years.

Calm water, tumultuous water.
Live water, where the Lucius-fish sleep and dragonflies hover.

I live beyond the river.  It is usually quiet and beautiful.
I can see cormorants fishing among the boats,
and if I am lucky, I will see the iridescent lightning of the Kingfisher bird.

Sometime, the rain swells my river and it loses its calm.
It floods the plains, then gets near us,
knocking at our doors, coming to visit us like an intrusive neighbor.

But I like it anyway, because it smells life. It never passes, it runs. It never stops, it flows.