"Sisters of the valley..."

kiss our mountains
for me,
and sprinkle a sweet,
sacred blessing over our river...

this river...
she carries my heart
in the sound of her song...

the murmur and hush of her voice
as she eddies
and flows through the valley...

aspens quiver
at the
sound of
her mighty rush,

lodgepole pines
serve as sentinels
along her journey south...

and we...
ah, we
sweet sister...

we bathe
in her baptismal waters,
drink from her palms,
dance in her shallows,
and are carried on her song...

she is the chord...
the true north,
the centering voice we share...

we are
sisters of the Arkansas Valley...

we know her touch,
her song,
her colors...

as familiar to us
as the
color of our
baby's
eyes...

steel gray on
a stormy summer afternoon,

her lace-like
whitewater
the palest
ice blue
in the morning...

as dark and
green as a forest
when daylight
turns to
night...

and because she loves us,
the river paints the color
of our eyes upon sky
and in the hollow of a boulder's
sun-washed cheek,
and sings our names
through the rock-ribbed canyons
of our native home...

we are the indigenous ones...

we are the ones
whose hearts were born
in  the waters of the Arkansas...

we are sisters of the valley
and we know
when we
are home...



[photo credit: Todd Herzer 2009]