Your eyes remind me of my river in the late afternoon,
Sun-golden and warm.
I once said so and you smiled.
I am alone now.
When the light of the setting sun hits his currents,
The river-god speaks to me, his child, voice low.
I bend forward, close over him,
My hands on his surface, feeling him move beneath me.
Forever I carry his sighs.
The visits back to New Orleans have been wonderful. This is for my Mississippi — amazing river that you are, Ann.
A trio of posts inspired by my recent visits begin here with To Miss New Orleans, about an old journalist who inspired my great love of the city.
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Copyright 1991 and 2016, Ann Fisher. All rights reserved.
Reblogged this on Dream Big, Dream Often and commented:
This is Ann Cavitt Fisher!!
[…] Ann Cavit Fisher […]
So very lovely. Thank you.
Thank you, Greg. I don’t consider myself a poet, but working to condense a feeling into a small number of words is a good challenge.
Evocative. Emotional. Fine…
Thanks for sharing this, Ann.
Thank you, Peter :-).
lovely post
Thank you, Mukul.
welcome