She is the River
By Timothy Patrick
19 Sep 2008
She is the RIver.
Her blonde hair is the sun, golden and in her eyes.
Her legs the contours of trees, slender branches, stems of delicate white.
Her hands are the leaves, softest touch as they trace lines and patterns of this place.
Her arms the reeds along the shore, reaching high, for the winds and the light.
Her feet connected to Mother Earth, rock and weed underneath her, she moves gingerly toward the water.
Her body is the current, elegant curves that begin to the East and end unseen to the West.
She is the River.
