







Through Michigan, across southeast Ontario (visiting Toronto,) back into the US at Niagra Falls, and back around to the start via Upstate New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio.
Memorable because it was probably my first purposeless road trip of a significant distance (as an adult and as a driver.)
Simplicity.
It flows.
It crashes.
It employs only
as much effort as
conditions dictate.
It does not rush
in a panic.
While straight,
its movements seem
whip-like.
When possible,
it moves straight,
But it rolls around or over
any obstacle.
If follows the course,
but also carves
the course.
Its movement, inexorable.
Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand.
It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.
Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating --
Where will all come home?
On goes the river,
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.
Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.
It’s not snack time… I do like a good pretzel, but – alas – pretzels are not a thing in India. Probably a good thing for me.