Time & the River

(Eastbank Esplanade: 9/2/17)

green river like evening air stretching its

hands between the maples beside a distant

river—mother would recognize it in oils,

a canvas I could picture but didn’t paint—

but it’s afternoon & water has little

to do with this solid state blue sky; liquid

fragments stitched with boat wakes & memories &

glimpses in the direction this current flows

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the pigeons & starlings feeding on bread crumbs

strewn by park benches are skittish in the heat—

the scrub jay perched on the galvanized railing

turns & turns again, darts to the madrona’s

foliage—a pair of Canada geese on

a sinking log below the bramble cascade

stretch wings, preen in unison; under Burnside

bridge other geese move on indigo shadows

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I’m not young; the motorboat churns downriver,

bow lifted; a paddleboat moseys past those

floating geese, but the geese don’t stir; you’re standing

in sunlight, holding the dog on her leash in

a photograph in my mind that’s also you

standing by the railing above green green flow:

a freight train processes west on the Steel Bridge,

its passing infinite for those few minutes

Jack Hayes

© 2017