Spring in the Pacific Northwest means rivers swollen with snow melt.
A few years ago, during a particularly strong and rapid melt,
and I spent a memorable afternoon being awed by the power of the Spokane river. This week — with the weather warming again — I was reminded of the poem I wrote about that day:Spring Melt
Hot cocoa in paper cups at the center of the humming bridge where the river is so loud we cannot hear each other shout with delight as the spray catches us like spring rain, so we just hold hands and smile, letting our hearts beat wild, drinking chocolate in the roaring silence.
Speaking of being in awe:
This little poetry newsletter of mine passed one hundred subscribers this week, and I could not be more grateful for each of you, nor more awed and humbled by your support. Thank you for joining me. I look forward to sharing poems with you every week. 🙏
If you found me through Substack, then you might already be familiar with the kind, supportive, thriving poetry community there. (Or, here, depending on where you’re reading this…) If not, and if you’re curious to explore Poetry on Substack, here are a couple of great resources to get you started:
- is building a Poetic Library, listing as many active poetry Substacks as possible
And, just this week,
posted a list of 99+ poets she’s found
As always, if you enjoyed this week’s poem, I’d be honored if you would like to share it with anyone and everyone you think might like it. Here’s a handy image for you:
Thanks for reading,
~ A
If you enjoyed this poem, please like, share, comment, and/or subscribe, all of which help to promote my work:
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This is simply lovely, which is why I subscribed.
In the roaring silence!