I Shall Be Telling This With a Sigh

There’s nothing like a quiet morning by an iced-over unmoving river when even your thoughts are still and the sky is spreading its rosy-fingered dawn upon this classical New England landscape and nothing moves you to question the grace of it all. It is what it is and you are who you are and there’s not a single fabricated moment in the mix. Even when you’re driving on an interstate and headed for the static of the city, you still remain right there. Your blood is flowing silent and alive like the river running strong below the surface of that steel and frozen glass. Every word you speak from that instant on is some eternal whirlpool deep beneath the mystery of its current. You’ve fallen though the ice and that is making all the difference.

~Son Rivers 2007