Tree roots left hanging in midair where soil used to hold them close, reaching, straining for the water that is rushing past, unheeding.
Caves, sometimes hidden by the fluctuating depths, calling to you invitingly.
"Come," they whisper. "Explore."
Alligators, snakes, turtles, fish: darting back and forth, playing tag with their teeth.
Birds singing, warming up that happy feeling inside your bones.
Spiders crawling on the water, daring you to move closer.
Dragonflies and horseflies flitting about, landing on your legs, staring at you, questions in their bulging eyes.
The river is teeming with life.
Life… and death; the equal yet opposite reaction.
There used to be a bridge across part of the
river. You can see the remnants of it still. You can also find a
gold Volkswagen on the bed, just downriver; the current has
managed to move it a few yards, but it's obvious from whence it came.
Fed by hundreds of springs spanning the length of it, the
river is cool year round. It's beautiful, this river. Especially my part
of it. MY part of it... as if I
could actually own a piece of such a natural formation. But I do feel as
if it's a part of me, and I a part of it. It... her. The river
feels like more of a feminine being. I'm not sure why... She's a
loving river. She'll coddle you and float you and let you have your way
with her.
But she can also be... unforgiving.
