The Mill River runs through Northampton, but in many places is well removed from the parallel streets, and accessible only after a brief trek through a mostly pathless wood. A few days ago, as I walked through a residential street, I noticed a convenient path thence behind a former auto dealership, and voilà.
Reflections along the Mill River
The visage of the creek, the shimmer of
Her woodringed surface in the shadebound wind,
Precipitate with legs of bugs who mind
Their own above young crayfish whose remove
In rockends seldom meets the sun. A tune
The crickets interlude between the nights
Succumbs to patter currents as the banks,
Stones blanched by countless summers passing on
Behemoths cut with human industry,
Enclose a swifter creek, her narrowed bed
A fluid cipher in the watershed.
The steep embankments, vacant but for me,
A restful couple aiming to enjoy
The glades in solitude, to whom I wave
In passing, and a cat, one slow to move,
Black, orphan, leisured as he makes his way
Long water's edge, rise to a lot outside
Aquadro's warehouse. Reams of planks and frames,
Square, arsenaline racks of iron wares,
These architectural colosses hid
Noachian anchors, tied with smelted cords
Runged in a gumdrop ton of concrete shank.
A titan built abandoned where he sank.
A man then feels right anchored where he stands.