Black Warrior River
From this place
the morning sun sinks
into the brick siding
on this single-storied house
while the oaks, fresh
from their winter respite
renew their branches
small green leaves unfolding
and the fallen acorns
begin their sprouting
always where they are not wanted
From this place of ruddy dirt
the dogs break the morning open
cracking the sky out of its dimness
with their sharp calls and siren songs
speaking of sun and Spring
while the rusty soil lies plowed
ready for the summer garden
clumps of clay rolled and broken
by hoe and tiller
hard work and calloused hands
shape the soil into usefulness
From this place along the river bank
the town tries to define itself
patches of used-to-be-buildings
lie in rubble—bricks and mortar broken
there is a plan to build
it is talked about and written about
and the machines rumble along
detours spring up and the landscape changes
while the river, alive in its channel
understands that it will still flow
long after Tuscaloosa is gone
It is this place that I call home.
Pamela Olson, 4/12/09
For Read Write Poem’s prompt
“Where do you come from”
and One Single Impression’s prompt
“Live Water”
“used-to-be-buildings
lie in rubble”
Lovely. Great sense of the dichotomy of the place.
‘acorns / begin their sprouting /always where they’re not wanted’ – don’t they just. There’s a great sense of the place in this poem.
I also love how you bring this place alive for someone like me who doesn’t know it. And the contrast between the natural world and buildings is very powerful.
your words spread out like the first rays of light across that beautiful place you call home…such lush imagery!
This was stunning…so vivid! You brought Tuscaloosa to life for me. Thank you!
A beautiful depiction.
beautiful and so serene.
I love “dogs break the morning open” and “the town tries to define itself.”
the contrast between the crumbling town and the forever river is stunning. Water doesn’t need to define itself.
“dogs break the morning open” was my portal to your world. beautiful! thank you
The line, “dogs break the morning open” is credited to my husband, Rick, who wrote it for his Easter Sunday sermon. When I heard it I knew I needed to use it and I received his permission.
Change is constant. Beautiful words.
Now that’s a poem!
pam, this is a very special place that sings with praise from the words you speak… i am touched deeply by your words…
This is a beautiful Pam .. as a girl chopping and picking cotton was hard, but in a sense it brought us closer to nature and the water than anything else in our lives … yes indeed, this is truly a beautiful read. Thanks.