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Water Theme
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Where the Rivers Join
by John S. Whitman
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| In the 17th and 17th centuries, Norwich was primarily noted for its seaport. An early trade document records that “…vessels of about 30 tunn may pass up about 12 miles above New London to or neer a town called Norwich.”, |
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| Every individual nature has its own beauty. R.W. Emerson | |
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Where the rivers join
a child stands
as the waters flow together
confluent and wide.
Young Elizabeth Hyde, distant daughter of the town's firstborn,
searches down river, eager and curious for the ship sails
coming up the Thames,
(And vessels of up to 30 ton
pass near this town called Norwich).
Each morning she comes to the wharf
and waits to spy the day’s first arrivals
all canvas flying white and full
under the sky, between the hills;
below she hears the full-throated cries
of the stevedores shouting
as the workday begins.
A black man, his freedom just earned,
loads bales of cloth from Leffingwell's new mill;
red - bandanaed Portuguese
utter strange oaths
and stack piles of bar iron
soon to become horse-sized anchors
for New London whalers.
She watches over the waters confluent and wide
as gulls cry and the river's surface is broken by jumping fish
and the passing of smaller boats giving way
to larger loaded craft.
Sails bend low, lines pull and strain,
bright work flashes.
The morning sun shines
on Elizabeth Hyde,
as she watches the waters passing by,
confluent and wide.
She turns to the northwest
where the Yantic
passes banks crowded
with cherry, oak, and elm.
The past flows from the hills
as she remembers tales;
brave Uncas and brother Wawequaw,
leaders of the Mohegan,
friends to the settlers,
vanquishers of Miantonomo:
(some claim chief Uncas
ate Miantonomo's flesh
to gain Miantonomo’s spirit).
The falls of the leap
upstream beyond her vision.
roar in her imagination.
Where the Yantic falls
Narragensetts died.
the braves’ brown bodies bent
and sprawled on boulders.
She hears the waters surge;
someone cries.
Her view wanders east
a little north,
where the mills of thread and paper,
the storehouses of grain,
the busy yards of lumber and
seed and feed
begin to rise above
the Shetucket
bending round to flow
to Thames valley below.
A winch unloads a boat,
flat-bottomed, twin-masted,
brown and black hull spotted with barnacles,
the white sails tied.
Big-armed workers strain
and loads of brick swing and sway
from ship to dock.
A wagon stands near,
horses huff and paw impatiently.
The bricks. pockmarked and pitted
piled on pallets,
rise from the hold;
houses and churches and schools and stores
will grow from these rocky red seeds.
At wharf's edge Elizabeth Hyde watches
a cormorant dive
into the river's depth
and she counts its time below,
watches downstream to see
it reappear.
"One, two, three,"
she holds her breath,
wonders how birds become fish,
counts, “four. five, six. seven ...”
She swam in this river before,
felt the current's pull
she has dived below,
yet never counted to this:
"nine. ten, eleven."
Her count breaks
she puffs and dizzily gasps:
(Though she wanted to go
to let the river take her away.
Still she wanted to go
to let the river take her away).
The duck's head then breaks the surface
Impossibly far upstream as
Elizabeth inhales and bends,
red-faced, teary-eyed. and happy;
she pulls her bonnet off
and shakes her brown braids free;
her plain, dark skirt billows as
she twirls in the morning light.
And the morning sun shines
on Elizabeth Hyde,
as she watches the waters
passing by, confluent and wide.
And then behind her
comes the cry;
“There she is ! There she is !”
A boy has climbed a warehouse roof;
he yells and points the way.
The ducks scatter and the gulls rise and cry
Elizabeth jumps with delight
as the sails come into view.
The yellow-white canvas
against the sky blue
flaps and billows, folds and breathes.
The cargo sloop proudly parts
the green valley;
hands climb the rigging, others line the rails,
the river foams and splashes at the proud bow.
Strong sailors with scarred arms and hands
haul at the canvas sheets while pulleys whine
and linemen on the wharf yell,
move down the pier, gesturing wildly.
Ropes are thrown. thick as a man's leg,
and cries go back from dock to deck.
(And vessels of up to 30 tunn
pass neer this town called Norwich).
The sails are trimmed
and the big sloop comes side the dock;
the wharf's wood groans agreeably
as the bulky hull settles aside
and is made tight.
Elizabeth Hyde watches as
she has watched every day;
the harbor. the work, the workers, the motion,
the ships, the birds., the fish,
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the hills. the sky, the clouds.
the waters confluent and wide;
and then, ready, she turns
for her school day waits.
She leaves the harbor and runs
past the market where farmers
sell their crops and trade,
where a cow is tied near two horses.
a pig, and chattering hens.
“I will go." she states to herself
as she climbs the hill, and
gathers the books she has left
beneath a springtime bush.
A rough woman runs by calling her dog as
the farmer's wife. tall and dark-haired.
sells pies. jams, and cures.
“I will go," Elizabeth says
as she turns to view the harbor below,
this favorite sight once more.
The waters refract and split the light,
the light clean and true, a thousand rippling mirrors.
The morning sun shines on Elizabeth Hyde
as she watches the waters
passing by confluent and wide.
“I will go."
(And vessels of up to 30 tunn
pass neer this town called Norwich).
John S. Whitman
April 26, 1993
| Visit John Whitman's Web Site at Sierra College |  |
http://lrc.sierra.cc.ca.us/tutor/Basic%20Skills/Kellogg%202003.htm