Low

I love this river. It's alive; it verbs its way into a new state each season, quite reliably. 

I have walked it thousands of times and this Fall it whispers "ice," yet it also says peace, and calm, and "pay attention." I know that it will be frozen soon, snow-covered, dreaming of Spring, hanging with saskatoon berries again.  

But this year, it's different. It's low. Like a new low. Almost everything is exposed and it invites me off the path to uncover new places and peculiar skeletons: a car battery, a radiator, a spoon. But also, children's names written in its sand. Here too are it's reliable stones, waiting to be overturned or skipped across what water remains.    

Its current state reminds me that I don't know everything about this river. Although I've been walking next to it for over 30 years, it still holds some secrets, some surprises. It will be strong again; even when I am impatient, even when I worry, this river will do what it does. This river reminds me that lows are temporary.