Nearby River
 
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No view of it, but on a sea-cooled breeze
you can hear an engine working trap to trap,
attending gulls trail crying hunger, need.
And it's not difficult to conjure sails
that hold this air in thrall, those heading out
to where the river starts to open wide
and islands made of granite, pine, the salt
of eons brunting tides, are nothing yet
but destinations spun of light and mist
beneath an overwhelming sun and sky.
 
No view of it from here, the river swarms
with all the life you might not ever see,
or on its icy fathoms you could launch
the tender watching vessel of a dream.