【by Sadie Zeiner-Morrish】

The river so big I almost drowned at ten years old,
As my tanned arms clung to the metal of the bridge
And the current rushed at my back,
Now feels small.
We skipped rocks across the whitewater
Like it had sailed down the bank just to make us happy.
We called ourselves Mountain Children,
Wild, muddied, and unparented in our fantasies. We
threw stones at squirrels,
Missing our targets to watch them scamper away. We
caught minnows in our fists and let them go, Ate
dandelions and spit the bitter parts out,
And to those smooth stones we whispered our secrets, Our
ark hearts.
As they drowned our wishes
Bloomed and came true. We found arrowheads,
Beer-bottles, equally treasured possessions.
Salesmen, we were, getting rich on leaf matter. We
were never called home, never went to sleep
But stayed out in the sun getting stronger, eating snakes.
How we laughed when the rocks turned under our feet!
How that spring water made us come alive!