oh, little sister

oh little sister,

i would sing,

if i had a voice loud enough,

of your beauty,

little crooked sister river,

and wash my things

in you at midnight.

in the moonlight

catfish feed

in your deep pools.

the fallen oak disturbs

your black water passing.

the fisher and the heron

sleep and survey perfectly

knowing what they can

take from you.

oh little sister,

the winds and the waters

have risen and your mood

is as uneven as my door

and your loveliness

divides the sweet

promise in the air

of the wild grape

from the distinct

roving storms.

oh little sister

if i had arms wide enough

i would hold you until

calmness claimed you

smoothing freely

your deep flowing skin

and the only sound left would be

soft murmurs as you pushed past

rock and sunken limb.

and as you push through the

tree tops settled,

you would wear them again,

as a beautiful sister's ringlets.