The river at Point Edward
welcomes all the waters of Huron
and carries them south
to Lake St. Clair. It moves
like a silent prayer
through the mid-September dusk.
Summer lingers among the trees
as if autumn might not return.
Swimmers can still be spotted
on sunny weekends for our nights
retain August’s heat. Quiet rules.
The songs of sparrows and thrushes
have been absorbed by the standing corn;
the river carries its vast burden
so slowly even the crickets
drown out the water’s murmurs.
The industry lining the banks
is struck dumb by such majesty.
Eventually, at Niagara Falls,
this water will make
the dynamos sing its praises.
