Precious river, many people depend on you for their laughter, joy, comfort and peace of mind. Your majesty is vast. Your true beauty and strength are obvious and yet, hidden. One can only get the feel of just how strong you are when surrounded by your steady movement, your journey, your intense focus to get to the destination—to share and reunite with your sister waters.

Your swift current is a mystery and a blessing. Through human lack of understanding, it has stolen lives. Like “footprints in the sand,” during times of grief and sorrow, its presence is felt as it carries us safely around the protruding boulders, forward, downstream, keeping us afloat, until we can take care of ourselves once again.

Your direction is crystal clear, never distracted or persuaded to change where you are going. No rocks or debris, jetty or obstacle can deter your progress forward. Always so positive about what you’re doing; such dedication in your decisions, my friend. If we could all be a little more like you.

One cannot comprehend or read your abilities, or know what is inside by looking across your boundaries. Only by joining you in your journey and sharing your purpose will one have respect for your depth and realize how much you offer through your magic, play and healing power.

I see and admire how you build yourself up in order to keep giving. Earth replenishes and bathes you. She gives you a winter break of silence and cold. The rain and snow fill you up. You generously hold earth’s tears every time she cries, and when she melts her mountain snow, you fill up even more and gather her minerals. The sun keeps you warm. You hold and carry life, water and essential nutrients. River, you soothe earth’s surface. She restores you, and you restore her. The energy flow is infinite.

I am so grateful. I will wait for the winter to fade away, and look forward to playing together again—seeing you chuckling with the tubers, feeding the fisherman, merrily carrying the paddlers, and smiling and playing when we swim and have fun walking underwater and against your current. Always with respect, I pray.

It may seem to be a long time, but it goes fast. I will be there… again, and again, and again.

[Lynn Guiser is a resident of Damascus, PA.]