River Filters

The Ohio wipes its face every few miles. This bend in the river forgets the wharfs, the gravel silos and power plants, only occasional coal barges push an industrial flatus before them. Here cattails gather herons into measured dominions. The river gallops under placid waves Fish-eyed currents dip and toggle in the ripple. It is possible to watch yourself being rinsed and laundered in this newly whisked stream, possible to wash your face anew. A person can stand on this reedy shore and forget, nor see the daily grime, but observe a lathering, as a fishing sunlight pulls out a new image, the spread of fathoming nets flung far to catch this fresh momentary wonder.