When I think of Rolf I think of rivers:
Long rivers, skinny rivers,
Rivers with boulders and pebbly beaches, |
Rivers flowing swift at high water,
Rivers slow but clear as glass showing where the Dolly Varden hide.
Rivers of salmon and steelhead going to the sea.
Before I met Rolf the only rivers I knew were the Allegheny and
Monongahela, the Ohio and Shenandoah,
Sluggish rivers, brown and old.
Rolf showed me wild rivers
With eagles and ancient spruce bottoms, king fishers and heron
And elk dipping their heads into the water.
Stillaguamish, Nooksack, Lyre and Hoh,
Skagit, Samish, Queets and Sauk
Rivers of legend, rivers of dreams.
May he always be there along them casting, casting until I come to him.
By Janet L Oakley
Janet's poem is a runner up for our third poetry contest. Thank you, Janet, for your submission!