Anne Morin

Along Our Sister Willamette: A Play

Along Our Sister Willamette: A Play

Along our Sister’s southwestern shore
exactly one mile from the Sellwood Bridge
a father builds a big fire on a knoll by the water
set like a stage for this audience of one
seated on a lanai across the river,
binoculars poised. The conflict proceeds:
Dry brush outlines the beach
a yellow-green backdrop, a curtain,
but dad’s fire threatens catastrophe
in the brightness of summertime’s heat.

Confronted by a man from the River Police,
sent with a call from the spectator,
Dad gestures with impatience to his kids.
The audience knows he has claimed, “They did it! ”
Downstage, heads bowed in shame,
the boys walk slow circles.
They work hard to bury the danger,
lug cans of water and dirt to the blaze.
Father looks silently on, stage right,
legs pressed together, arms folded. What a liar!

Fishermen spend whole days on this platform
perched on the banks of our Willamette’s flow.
They fish, eat and drink, converse with their friends,
poles propped in the dirt near the apron of rocks.
But they abandon their trash at the end of the day,
leave tangles of line
around the pits they have dug in the sand.
Fishing gear and beer cans, mashed-in Styrofoam cups,
shards of glass and the occasional paraphernalia
litter like ripe pimples around the face of our lovely Girl.

A couple of big guys, proving prowess and daring,
antagonists just the same,
knock down a fragile tree that has rested for years on this mound.
Costumed in mossy bark, few leaves, and pale, pitted wood,
the old knight had stood proudly, center stage.
Used often as backrest, scenic color for the set,
grey and twisted – way past its prime –
the tree offered shelter,
its human-sized hollow a center, a lean-to,
a cave into which bodies could hide in a storm.

I watch and I call and sometimes go to visit
this knot on the banks of our River Girl.
I mourn for the old Elder
knocked from its pinnings – gone now,
shoved off, split up, used to build fires.
I send pleas to the players
parts repeated each day:
Resolve to remember the sparkle each knoll gives
to our Sister Willamette - please take care!

The End.

Submitted: Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (Along Our Sister Willamette: A Play by Anne Morin )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Trending Poets

Trending Poems

  1. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, Dylan Thomas
  2. Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
  3. The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
  4. Dreams, Langston Hughes
  5. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
  6. Your Laughter, Pablo Neruda
  7. If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
  8. Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
  9. Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
  10. A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe

Poem of the Day

poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

...... Read complete »


New Poems

  1. Radiate With Radiation, Michael P. McParland
  2. I'm already gone, Vanessa Parodia
  3. Henry's First Time, douglas scotney
  4. Once Upon A Moonbeam, Philip Russell
  5. I Really Did Like You Susan Fewster, Ray Moody
  6. Quick Night Note, Michael P. McParland
  7. Quick Message Of Love, Michael P. McParland
  8. Proposal, Michael P. McParland
  9. Before we sleep, Karin Holloway
  10. Profound, Michael P. McParland
[Hata Bildir]