The Naming of Rivers

I was delighted when the publisher of Autumn Leaves gave permission to post one her poems. There are so many! This one has certain elements I find especially appealing: I like the naming of rivers. Trees, of course, are impossible to pass up. Singing to the river is the icing(it's freezing out the door of the Shire so I have ice on my mind) on the cake. I'm assuming you know that it should be eaten on a picnic down by the riverside. Parkas, ahoy! I read on the americanrivers.org site that there is a future in energy from old mills. If you've ever been to Mabry Mill on the Blue Ridge Parkway, you will know why I say, "Double yay to that!" Sing to a river today.Sing of the seasons and faraway friends and homework and studying war no more. Sing so I can hear you!

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Early Winter on the Brandywine
by Sondra Ball

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By the edge of the Brandywine

where weeping willows grow,

I find a fallen tree trunk

still clear of snow.

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I sit upon the tree trunk,

watch grey green waters flow

southward towards the Chesapeake

through banks of snow.

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I sing to the Brandywine:
green waters,

clean waters,

where do you flow?

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I hear the river answer:

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over hills,

over rills,

through the white snow.