“Morning Walk”

Saturday, November 8, 2025--Poetry Day 8

Along the Provo River

“Morning Walk”

This morning, we walked
along the Provo River Trail,
first time since last fall.
It seemed the same, except
for the green foliage and mounds
of cottonwood fluff
along the trail like snow.

The water gurgled its way downstream,
smooth as silk in some areas,
and cascading in others where
rocks and down limbs impeded
its flow downstream.
A few fishermen
in their chest-high waders
standing in the current
and some on the banks
just downstream, flicking fish lines
into the swift water that flowed
through deep holes.

I stood on the bank above them,
watched them, scanned the water,
seeing scads of moss swishing
on bottom of the river,
but then I recognized the shapes
of fish, probably spawning suckers,
facing upstream, back tails and fins
moving just so to maintain their spot
in the river. Greenhead mallards
suddenly appeared between me
and the trees, parting ways
around them, around me, swooshing
upstream, quacking all the way.

 
The freshness of it all, early spring,
the greenness, the fishermen,
the mallards, and a river bottom full
of suckers waiting for breakfast
spilled over us, refreshed us
with the trappings of spring
and the renewal of life itself.

Along the Provo River