I walk the river discovering a new direction where
cutbanks have sloughed off and bending

trees lean with a weary creak

meltwater seeps up, whirlpools suck down and

everything is on the verge of

falling in, falling off, falling apart

like that time on the Kusko

when we had to race around open leads,

roaring on the sagging ice

me holding tight your waist & leaning into

hairpin turns

we weaved around downed timber

just on the edge of ice, oh

the water is deep there;

.

the taste of air and the smell of cold, sucked

my breath away. words .

more words collected to describe

these northern myths with clarity & precision

my river walking is

re-writing the story, again

opening me like a new motherhood, showing clearly

where my lines break/into/

a hopeful and cavernous space to breathe.

.

Monica Devine:  Writer, Photographer, Nature Lover

What keeps me afloat: Exploring art, playing music, living in the mountains, wandering (following the trail ahead), wondering (looking up at the stars)…and writing it all down to share here, with you. I write poetry, children’s books, fiction, memoir, and non-fiction, because, we are so much more than muscle and bone: We Are Made of Our Stories.

I consistently wander off the beaten path, and I GO NOWHERE WITHOUT MY CAMERA

MONICA DEVINE

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