Mississippi

The sky stretches out endlessly above the mouth of the greatest river known to me.

However, we do not witness the water gurgling from its earthly prison. We ignore the trickling tributaries, the slow streams, the raging rivers as the water flows south.

We lay beneath the grass, entwined in a bed of our favorite flowers. (I, roses, and you, tiger lilies)

The rain comes and floods the river banks. My clothes get wet, and you complain that your shoes are muddy.

Laughing, we race toward the river and plunge in, head first, and we let the slippery water wash away our fears.