But they are Rivers–a previously unreleased poem

Here’s something that will make the cut for The Philosophical Verses (Vol. 2). There’s a bit of Sandburg channeling here. Hope you dig it.

***

But They Are Rivers

If they were
the master men and women
who run corporations,
it would bother the rivers
that they end in a delta downtown;
they would see it as some form of loss
or death no doubt.

If they were human,
the clear and green one flowing north,
formed as a trickle
in northwestern North Carolina,
would probably look down on
the muddy brown one,
formed by three sister creeks
that hail from eastern West Virginia,
or they might meet downtown
like a couple of street gangs
from the West Side
and clash over turf or pride,
neither yielding
until both were dry
or waste precious time
electing committees to discern
the formation of their merger
and to plot out
the intended path ahead.

They’d probably fail
to accomplish anything,
and nothing would be formed
from their union.

But they are rivers,
and blessed are the folks of
Glen Ferris and Shrewsbury
and all of those other westerly towns
on the banks of the Kanawha
that they are not people
because when they come together
they just merge to make
something bigger.