The Great River

Here the Rio Grande is dry

            a hollow bone without the marrow

            a sleeping body without blood


            patient as the ceaseless wind

            blowing tumbleweeds

            into the dry rushes on its banks.

They say it runs with catfish in the spring

            who mysteriously are resurrected

            by the flood of melting snow,

            the spring release

            from reservoirs



            we wander on the dry bed


            for the life to come.

Sign at Rio Grande that says Fishing Allowed Along River Only