This morning there is traffic on the river
The first boat pushes a barge of coal
At the first lock the station man opens the gate
And the barge floats in like a cloud
It’s hollow thud against the walls echoes
Fading into the shush of shivering stream
Below the surface, fish are schooling upstream
The gar and the bass make their way to the high shallows
Where they will ruin their tails brushing away a year’s sediment
From the rocks in the riverbed
And their nests will be bright circles under the low water
Those who live by the banks watch the flow
Boys cast baited hooks and stand in the riffles
Outside of the boat channel
Geese come from above, honking as they splash onto a long, green pool
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