River in my Veins

Shum shum shum

Trickle trickle trickle

River Dee sings its ancient song

like the sound of a distant crowd

clapping.

A symphony of applause, shum and trickle

traverses the Galloway Hills.

A carnival of otters, voles, salmon, eels, and

freshwater pearl mussels

dances among fallen rain,

tears from broken hearts,

sweat from garments washed in its waters,

little accidents from children

playing and splashing.

*

I was once such a child, then later,

a woman seduced.

I lay on my back in the river water, the

Black Water of Dee carried

my cares to the sea

where one day they rose to a cloud that

floated away.

I washed my hair under waterfalls;

watched them rinse my suds away,

infuse my hair with songs sung by pirates

my grandmothers knew.

*

Its waters cleanse, refresh, and

when I immerse myself in its liquid

wet embrace,

I feel dressed.

The river Dee knows me,

brings life. Like a gripping book

it carries stories and opens to

the unknown.

*

The Black Water of Dee is my moody beast in winter–

rushing, gushing, dangerous,

Neptune’s army unleashed;

in summer, benign–enticing, cool, leaving

parts of itself on my skin

where it catches the eye of the sun and

together, they

make me

glow.