By Brent Brewton

I was cresting a mountain when I first saw it
Still young, twelve, its size and strength filled me with trepidation
Never had I seen anything so majestic yet so dangerous and unbridled
It was truly the emperor of all it covered
Descending, I watched in awe as the evening sun’s rays turned its surface to molten metal
And around me the sweet smells of honeysuckle and apple blossoms filled the air as if to
Pay homage to this indomitable ruler
Arriving before its banks, I stopped short and dared to go no closer
As if to alert my presence, geese flying high overhead blew their horns
The air was not pleasant here, the smells of rotting fish and of dirty water that relentlessly
Rolled and churned along a great winding course.
Before me I marveled at a group of ducks floating on its shifting surface, repeatedly
diving Into its cold, dark abyss to forage
Surfacing and swimming with such ease, it left me ashamed.
Somber, I contemplate my place among men
In the west the orange sun hung low as if in portents to my future.
Angry, I challenged fate and dared to make my own destiny.
Defiantly I walked to a nearby spreading elm and slump to its base
There a weak, soothing vibration could be felt
Closing my eyes, I soon fall asleep
To soundly sleep in its unpredictable presence.