“Ever newer waters flow on those who step into the same waters”
—Heraclitus
Love needs no language,
Not here,
Along the Susquehanna, watching as she twists and bends
Returning to mouths,
Where sunlight and lovers meet.
Not here,
Where the silver maple and black cherry sway patiently,
Amidst the romantic odes of the meadowlark,
Or the ecstasy of the osprey,
As they dive and reemerge,
Fed by the river.
Not here,
Where the haunting tales of lush mountains
record through the ages,
Those first seedlings of love.
Here, along the river, she reveals us to one another,
As we confess our love, baptized between her gentle waves.
How has she found us?
Here along the Susquehanna, reflecting in our gaze,
the memories of our ancient love’s return.
The Susquehanna River flows from Cooperstown, New York, down through Pennsylvania and Maryland before emptying into the Atlantic at Chesapeake Bay.
Walking the Muse by Melanie Simms