JUNE 25, 2018

Yahara Spring III

“Flow on, river! flow with the flood tide, and ebb with the

         ebb tide!

Frolic on, crested and scallop-edg’d waves!

Gorgeous clouds of the sunset! drench with your splendor

          me, or the men and women generations after

          me!”

– Whitman, from “Crossing Brooklyn Ferry”

Yahara Spring III

To the millions of gallons that flow from the glacial

alluvium lakes at the mouth of the Yahara;

the gallons that flow through the wide bowl of Mendota

and sift through the upper reaches of the Taychopera

at the Cherokee marsh to us at the Yahara Bridge

where schools of fish stew underneath to feed.

To the millions of gallons that curve where the park yard still holds

the living ghosts of German immigrants

in their Sunday suits playing billiards and bowling,

as they chant to beer hall suites and children frolic,

to the millions of gallons that flow past the curved

park yard and on toward Starkweather Creek,

past the burial mounds above the shoreline protected,

Graham Park, Paunuck Marsh and Inter-lake at Squaw Bay.

How your voyage carries all our eyes of generations.

Under the tame air into worlds only known by water

we peek as the foil-edged jewels of sharp waves

and on into the more known mysteries of the city.