"Buffalo River" photo credit: Gerry Toler |
I rediscovered the poetry of Rosalie Toler tonight. Here is one for you:
Beside The Buffalo
Alone on a rock with a
book
I do the friendly thing
I read poetry to the
river,
and the water molds it
to a new rhythm.
Williams — Whitman —
Dickinson,
I hurl their polished
syllables
away on the current.
Do people downstream
hear them coming?
I wonder.
Maybe some fisherman,
casting his own lines,
will feel the rush,
sense the lure of purling
words leaping,
matching riff with riffle.
Or maybe some rugged
kayaker,
etching his watery v’s,
will shoot rapids
through them,
unaware that part of
the thrill
is sheer poetry.