Jennifer Cahill Poet Free verse

The River Courses

The river courses, its currents speed
      as it carves the land; pushes against the mud, 
the long grasses bending over the dark deep 
light blue-brown.
                         Her grandmother creaks the rungs 
of her rocking chair, 
her shawled shape is molded earth colors
                        like the river and its banks, 
            both passing time quietly, alone.
     The rain changes the sky 
          outside her window; it becomes Dove-grey.
            The clouds are wrapped together, 
                         sunlight cushioned, they are bandages 
with the light like blood seeping
            until the empyrian is completely covered,
      and clots- Venus, Mars and Jupitor, perhaps-
                         behind the outer layer of the celestial sphere
in a sea of wedding-white.
The full moon is veiled 
                        within the cottony gauziness, 
      it shines in the violent heavens.

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