watercolor beyond trees (barton). Photo by C. Finch.
The Huron River at Barton Dam
by Leigh Sugar
Running into the almost-noon sun just
the angle so my whole face squints
like I am smiling – which I am –
because to not on a sixty-degree Michigan winter morning
is a sin. Behind my childhood house the river,
a pond tumbling to the dam
connecting the Huron to a string of lakes
to empty into the Detroit and finally
Lake Erie. Last night I went out at sunset, the sky pewter-
fading-to purple, the river
mirroring the trees at the shore
and then the purple sky and mansions
farther in. On the trail before the dam a field
begs high school sports teams to mow messages –
last night, a heart. Also
before the dam a stone bench we might,
one day, sit on.
Light diffuse behind clouds the sky
grainy, contracting infinitely
into itself. Glints rearrange to an invisible black.
Is love objective or specific?
When I painted, I painted the river
and the trees with watercolor and pastel. Last night I thought
If I still knew how to paint I would paint the river.
There is light enough now for a man
to crouch on the riverbank
with a camera and perhaps take some shots,
as a man did, just this morning, crouch along the riverbank
to shoot – not harm, frame – the swans
and geese paddling around in what other years
would be an ice rink for the neighborhood kids to glide atop
with sticks and a puck despite guardians’ horror stories
of failed rescue missions to save fallen ice fishers
from the frigid nowhere under. Today
there is no ice but a man and his camera
and down the path a pack of university runners
and a woman with her dog, there are many of those here,
dogs, and people walking them, some women, sometimes my parents
and their dog, and people walking babies, too, including a family
I ran past yesterday twice – once
on my way out, once after I turned back –
because to return on a path other
than the one from whence I came
would require I run along Huron River Drive, a road
that harbors enough blind spots to make nervous
even the bravest buck despite
this day’s penetrating light.
***
Leigh Sugar (she/her) recently returned to Ann Arbor, where she was raised, after ten years. She loves walking around her Packard neighborhood with her pup Elmo when she’s not writing, and is honored for this poem, about her childhood home on the Huron River, to find its way to fellow townies.
***
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 poettreetowna2@gmail.com.
