what happens when the river runs

what happens when the river runs
against your present parameters
oh skin, bones, sinew--how you
get in the way of simply allowing

river's force to do what she does
so elegantly- the world can
turn on a herkimer diamond,
make flutter furrows in the snow,

and slip inside a greater consciousness
like a love letter in my pocket
prancing around in pajamas
in places where no faces

appear- just little trickles
of thirsty river beds bellowing,
"time to trim back the hedges,
and speak stories out loud

along side the mighty hudson,
time to hear ancestral harmonies
from douglas fir- soaring
through each tiny pine frond"

continuing to flow within
the parenthesis of wave and rock
fully festooned with the wind
powered up to heal the flock

how the softest of winds-
the breath blowing candles
makes watchful time equations
when cuckoo clock stops

when blowing out candles
next to the one who wakes
you up to yourself
all along the riverside

never wishing to hide
as forgiveness is only
stretching the heart
just a little bit more--

how healing happens
all the time when we
& our silly agendas
get tossed along side

the river--how we always
end up floating on our backs
how letting the dramas mix
with sun, salt water

tears, clams, and seaweed
dissipates--releasing on contact;
how-- when we laugh, we become
a daily comedy in the making



~words/photo~kate lamberg (c) '15