October on the Greenbrier
John McCurdy 10-09

The River, stagnant, to the bank is cleaving,

and the odor of death hangs over the stream. 

Green tentacles of algae form and float, attached still

to the many rocks, dry and visible for near the first time in years.

The island now not green, but rather sage, the Heron now finds food

near every watchful stance, when will he leave?  

Great gobs of whitish foam befoul the stream,

hindered now in their journey to the New River, the Kanawha.  

The effluents of the towns and farms above, just slightly cleaner than

before, makes food for the algae and the life-forms there,

The crawdads, minnows, frogs and hell-benders, the bottom dwellers! 

The trees bending over the streams, now drop their leaves,

as they have always done, and the casting-away of summer races on. 

Soon the autumnal clouds and rain will come, welcomed and then

watched closely lest the abundance be too much, seldom satisfied

eyes will watch the waters rise, holding air into fearful chests,

waiting to know when they can again breathe. Thanking God and asking

again for just a little less.

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