not a big river, but a river that begins north of my city and then is hidden under city streets, emerging briefly in places and then diving back underground.
i think on its history sometimes and try to imagine its place in the lives of the animals, the first nations people who knew it as a source of water and food, the early settlers who learned to see it as much the same, and now am i thinking on the times i spend in a funky cafe next to a fifty foot stretch that emerges and babbles almost joyfully. . . .
this morning i am looking over the parapet of a bridge.
the river beneath me is frozen over, but at its centre where the current is strongest, the ice is thinnest, revealing the colour of the water beneath it.