disorientation

The river is so large
so deep so wide
we set our compass
wrong:

we think of north
when it’s north-west
and south
when it’s south-east.

We stand with our backs
to it and paint of barns;
so awed, afraid, to try
to paint this river.

It is as huge
as the sun and moon
and other people’s mountains
and prairie sky here.

It is our undreamed dream
our gravity our helm;
it is too big for humans:
our angel, St. Lawrence.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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