Shawn McClure

FICTION

Down to the River

I go down to the river to pray, studying about that good old way.

I carry a walking stick and poke the stilt grass like a blind man to chase away the snakes that might be hiding. The ferns are being choked out by invasive stilt grass, so I squat down and weed around them, exposing them to light and air. I whisper to the maidenhair fern, “Who shall wear the starry crown?”

It’s solid on the bank, no quicksand. There are hand-shaped prints left by raccoons. There is nobody else here except the deer who flee so fast they appear to vanish. I go up, over the fallen maple that is slowly being consumed by fungus. I stand on it so I can look ahead. There she is, my love, the river. Brown and lean, stretching across the green, slithering under the blossom-fingered bushes that make little eddies and ripples on her skin.

Oh sisters! Let’s go down!

Listen! The birds know I’m here. They hide in a green grotto formed by overhanging limbs. They send out alarm cries from within the shadows. They see me, they surround me, and talk among themselves. “Friend or foe?” they ask each other. “Friend or foe?” The hawk responds with a sharp and distant cry. She knows I’m here, too. She sits in the highest tree, all knowing, all seeing.

Oh fathers! Let’s go down!

I enter the river, first my feet on the silty edge. Cold slides up my calves to the back of my knees, cooling the hot crevices, creeping up my back like the slow rise of flood waters.

Oh mothers! Let’s go down!

I fully immerse myself, pull my feet up from the mucky river bottom, and float, eyes skyward where the birches touch the willows overhead, feeling the gentle downstream tug of the current. The birds go back to song; the catbird stops meowing and returns to its chaotic, happy melody. I emerge from the river and see a velvet antlered buck watching me curiously but without alarm. The smell of the river clings to me as I head home.

Good Lord, show me the way.

Shawn McClure is a naturalist, artist, and writer from New Jersey who occasionally publishes her work on the web.

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Photo is in the Public Domain.