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.