The River

morning river

The frogs are singing their scratchy song
Full of clicks and bellows
A lovely counterpoint to the quiet ‘thum, thum, thum’ of the engine
Her hull cleanly slicing through the reflections
Breaking the glassy surface
Leaving behind a trail of swells and bubbles
That dissipates almost as soon as it’s created

 Today, the river is a kind and courteous host

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