Whitewater
We begin on the slow upper
curve of the river, feeling our way
in current and wind, the sudden tug
of power beneath us. Just ahead
water rolls darkly over stones
that break the surface. This
is our first jolt of spray
and it hits me how deeply water
takes us in. Plunge and we’re lost
to the quick surge of blood
in our lives, the whole river
picking up speed. It’s not until
we hang in the air that we see
the blaze the pool becomes. Back
on shore we’ll beg our bodies to feel
exactly this way, replace the teasing
wind we’re left with, ache that follows
the river gorge and when it reaches
pools like these, spreads its arms
so those on shore who felt it coming
feel it again, as if it were love.
Scott Davidson grew up in Montana and lives with his wife in Missoula. His poems have appeared in Southwest Review, Bright Bones: Contemporary Montana Writing, and the Permanent Press anthology Crossing the River: Poets of the Western United States.
Read more poetry by Scott Davidson appearing in Terrain.org: “If I’d Stayed Inside.”
Header photo by websiteproud, courtesy Pixabay.
