Monday, November 28, 2011

Wet and Wild



Young and Mad and Raging

You young river, you!
Rocky-bottomed, trouty,
Fairly bursting with promise;
Hardwood-lined banks,
Built up by loving farmers
Over many, many years
To hold back your rage;
An age ago I would
Have slipped into you
With my red Blue Hole
And ridden you, hard,
Hell for leather,
Withdrawing only
When exhaustion
Had taken me.
Bold I was then,
And strong of arm,
Unafraid of the wet
And the wild,
Child of rivers
That I am.

5 comments:

Bruce Taylor, a.k.a. Catalyst said...

That's a wonderful poem, Prof!

Carolina Linthead said...

Thanks, Bruce!

ellen abbott said...

I loved the years I spent on the river. I really miss it.

Gerry Snape said...

I'm there watching the water race down stream....love those words.

Catfish Tales said...

Nice one - truly! Yes, we were wet and wild in those days, eh? I used to inner-tube down the rapids of the Platte River up in the Colorado mountains before it tamed itself meandering through the plains. :)