|April 16th, 2001|
Potomac Water Gap
Every ancient inch is singular,
Exposed fingerprint rilles and whorls, the earth's pit,
Remnants of ridges a thousand feet above.
A history of water made space in this spot
Dense patience waiting it way.
Adrift down a trace of God,
I let my eye slide over a wrinkle in time.
At the height is age, unbroken but where
the slightest shrug first let water through
when the ridges were young and holding back an ocean.
Lower is the ravage, where cataclysm savaged ages
Of graceful rock is prodigal gusts, making monuments
In angular faces and jagged prows of mountain.
Sinking I see stratches and scuffs on the billow rock
Where bridges and canals traced their motives,
Respecting the plan, taking the lesson of how to hold.
Below me, borne upstream by my passing,
an infinity of stone roots roil and channel,
a language of age
patiently testifying to the time that does not fly
but chips and licks in gentle gradual conquest. ~ Dave Motes
Home for Dave is Oakton, Virginia where he is a high school English teacher and Fly fishing instructor and guide with Mark Kovach Fishing Services on the upper Potomac River near Harper's Ferry, WVA. He is married with a five-year old son, and fishes both salt and freshwater for trout and bass, stripers, but mostly smallmouth from Alabama to Minnesota.
River Bed by Dave Motes
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