"The river asked me to be her fingers
her voice her song. I don't remember
saying "yes"
that day I offered to help clean up,
but here I am dancing her into
wholeness and beauty.
Segments of my life on seemingly unrelated
streams and branches weave together in a
flowing undulating tapestry as the watershed
unveils herself to me through me in me.

Burning desire to know about her-story, who
drank from her waters before in birchbark,
in cabins, in mills, in factories, in suburbs?
How can I feel her sense of transformation
of the slime and dumps, the stench and
cement banks of the hopeless reputation
into greenbelts, wetlands, joy-filled parks,
wild reserves?

When did I say I would spend my days
connecting the places opening my eyes
and their eyes to her web of grace? To
come to know her intimately over
hundreds of square miles to feel her voice
whisper or cry, "Have you noticed this?

Show them this!

my colors, my offerings my stories of her-story/"