The river sings to me about obstruction today,
how one accidental rock can lead to a quickened tempo
and how an unexpected plummet deepens a note.
The water is quilted by some holy grandmother,
her needles of sunlight here and shadows there clicking
together in the shallows, small ripples made tight
with sun-metallic threads.
Who is being born that deserves such a wrap?
I walk along next to the river on its sandy path
listening to a lullaby made by motion, water
breaking itself over rocks. Like my faith,
a flash flood, then leveling into narrow rivulet.
Carol Berg’s poems are forthcoming or in Crab Creek Review (Poetry Finalist, 2017), DMQ Review, Sou’wester, The Journal, Spillway, Redactions, Radar Poetry, and Verse Wisconsin. Her recent chapbook, The Johnson Girls, is available from dancing girl press. She was winner of a scholarship to Poets on the Coast and a recipient of a grant from the Massachusetts Cultural Council.