Apprisal
Kenneth Rehill

Eli, my son, how eager you are
to be out on the river! The call
of Canada geese and black ducks
fills your ears. You can taste them.
I know how strong an influence
the river’s lure is on youthful hearts
when, in the wake of the Breakup,
the water rushes swift and high.

Eli, my son, I fear you’ll think
this river you’ll run is the one
you plied in your skiff last year.
An early spring arctic river
is a river uncharted. The sand bars
you knew are resituated. Boulders
and rock piles may lurk in their stead,
ready to breech the bows and bash
the props of anyone unwary.

Eli, recall the roar and thunder
of the Breakup. See the stranded
cabin-sized ice blocks on the beach.
Smell the sludge that stains them.
It’s muck plucked from the bottom.
New sweepers have descended
from banks the raging waters,
armed with ice and grit, have gouged.

Eli, if you maintain alertness, keep
your throttle nearly closed and creep
along, reconnoitering, your restraint
will be richly rewarded. You’ll find
the fowl for which you yearn and we
will have a son for another season.

******************************************

Above All
Kenneth Rehill

The sun shines alike
on the rock and the rabbit.
It favors gnats no less than people
and this man no more than another.
All dwell under the same equanimous sky.
How sad it is that equality can be forgotten.
We need only lift our heads to be reminded.

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