Huron River. Photo credit: Emma Beauchamp.
by Angelica Esquivel
It is morning, before the sun has fully risen.
I stand before the Huron River, watching
the white mist spiral over the water. A swan
drapes herself into a circle on the bank.
Goats bleat and eat invasive species while
a willow tree swoops like Narcissus
seeking his own lovely reflection. Before
the Huron River was the Huron River, it was
Giwitatigweiasibi.
Before the Huron River was the Huron River,
it was the Laurentide Sheet. Before
the Huron River was the Huron River, Earth
was a water world. Before the Huron River
was the Huron River, every feeling was still
in the stars. I stand now before the Huron
River, and the winding blue ribbon remembers
me home.
***
Angelica Esquivel is a Xicana writer and artist who lives in Ypsilanti with her husband and two dogs. This poem is a meditation on the geographical history of our ever-shifting planet, and how we, even in our smallness, are an integral part of this history.
***
This is an original poem, brought to you by Poet Tree Town, an Ann Arbor-based poetry-in-public initiative and celebration of local Washtenaw poets. Find out more about Poet Tree Town on Instagram and Facebook, or say hello at [email protected].
