River Con Amigos
Sam Traten 07.30.2017
Hoping for respite, hungering for nature
we meet down by the river.
The day dry and bright, warm not hot
after a week of muggy rain day and night.
Aha, half the town is there too.
Runners, hikers, fishermen, bikers,
kayakers --all seek sport and healthy exercise.
Birds, turtles, and fish find refuge elsewhere.
Nothing lost. Human nature is nature enough
for our pleasure. One Great Blue Heron
hightails off upriver, looking for a sushi lunch
away from our cacophony of horns, splashing
paddles, yelps of youths diving and swimming
in their street clothes, the scents of wrapped
sandwiches and grilled delicacies wafting, mingling
with molecules of rain-refreshed rushing waters
splashing high over the dam off to our right. To the left
a family of newly arrived townspeople encamp.
But, wait, they’re all men, young and old, along with
a few shy toddlers and scampers. Where are the women?
A radio clicks on, Spanish singers croon and
yodel, the songs not modern pop but Central
American country-music, of love and merriment.
“The women are working,” I offer,
half biting wit, half loving irony, thinking
the men have taken over childcare for the day,
mothers home enjoying relief, catching up with
housework, away from their work-fit men who’ve
labored the week away to feed their growing
families.
This is our river with friends.
a few shy toddlers and scampers. Where are the women?
A radio clicks on, Spanish singers croon and
yodel, the songs not modern pop but Central
American country-music, of love and merriment.
“The women are working,” I offer,
half biting wit, half loving irony, thinking
the men have taken over childcare for the day,
mothers home enjoying relief, catching up with
housework, away from their work-fit men who’ve
labored the week away to feed their growing
families.
This is our river with friends.
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