-- THE BIG BLACK RIVER --

John Herlihy

That old darn river just rolled mightily along,

Stirring in its murky waters a midnight song.

At times but mumbling eddies, then a surge,

The lazy river only summons a mournful dirge,

Just rollin’ along in the big black river of night.

Whether melting snow flakes in a winter night,

Or absorbing the summer rain until out of sight.

Whether autumn leaves floating as rustic boats,

Or petals of spring flowers whose perfume floats,

Montana logs ride thru the big black river of night.

The great brown father of waters just rollin’ along,

With a torrent of broken souls singing a sad song.

Bearing rounded Montana logs and Dakota muds,

Passed Iowa vales in the wake of steamboat suds,

Just a rollin’ along in the big black river of the night.

The long bleak river rolled along like a role of dice,

Its secret of pure beginning lodged in glacial ice.

Shuddering itself alive and gurgling like an infant,

The miracle of the river born silently in an instant,

As the long bleak river just rolled through the night.

 Growing to be a mighty snake, happy to be born,

Through the day’s sunshine and the night’s storm.

Sad old men lived by the river in shanties smokin’,

Throwing fishing lines from sticks, waitin’, hopin’,

As the holy black river rides thru the dark of night.

The great lazy behemoth of the river ambled onward,

Riding a sullen, sultry tide down an eternal waterbed.

All foghorns and misty rain in the flow of black night,

In the unearthly darkness, eternity flowing out of sight,

As the purple black river rolls deep into that dark night.

A time will come when the mighty river will groan,

The awful waters in slanted sun to rise up and moan.

The reddening peninsulas of land all washed away,

As twilight fell in the river at the end of another day,

To disappear at last into the big black river of night.

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(c) John Herlihy 19 March 2019