The Secret River


The first born, frost-borne ice melt dripped
Long and slow in its dark deep bed
Pooled and pressed at its rock-walled crypt
Til March trod heavy on the Earth and Winter fled.

It pushed its way through secret gulleys
And cracks that only water knows
To emerge, trembling, and to hurry,
Down hillsides green and white with snow.

This stream-stuff spun from rock and sod
Seeks sea-joy for all its worth
My night's eye saw it pounding roughshod
O'er mother stone and father earth.

Now penned,
these fleeting words cannot well describe my heart's long shiver
Upon first sight of that raging, secret river.

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