Thursday, March 30, 2006

I hesitate to bring this up...

a bit of blogetry in this almost springtime season...

At the confluence of the Beargrass and the Ohio

where a wild winter wind

blows the leaves back up the oak tree,

Where the mallard and his mate huddle

beneath a fallen sycamore,

Where eddies swirl and dark waves

kiss the shore goodbye,

There are no addresses.

No street numbers to be marked on a map

and kept in a file cabinet at city hall

with a corresponding Owner’s name

Because there are no Owners.

There are no claimants on the water

as it rolls from creek to river to ocean

and back again.

And it surprised me today

as I thought about it,

That no one had ever bought the Ohio outright.


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