The Mukwonago River

The River Why
I drive by the Mukwonago River,
where arrowheads were found for many years.
The river is a really big giver
of crappies; fishermen shed happy tears.
I’ve never walked there, though I’ve been here years;
it’s for other people, but not for me.
I smell it when I go by and my leers
rival those I have for a lake I see.
The deep, wet odor, earthy and salty,
and the mist, tickling and teasing my skin.
I resist the pull as it calls to me.
It calls: come to me please, and please come in.
And I wonder if I will ever go;
the years I have left do not go by slow.

© Julianne Carlile


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