the parapet of a bridge

looking over the parapet of a bridge.

underneath the bridge a river emerges. 

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.

so like people.