The Truckee River runs under our feet,
these cool refreshing dreams of cityscapes,
with water up to our eyes beneath the Mapps,
where city dwelling families swim to greet.
To lie upon the rocks while children splash
and couples hold their hands to fall asleep,
my son is old enough to enjoy deep
areas, gamblers soak their loss of cash.
This Truckee River witness to our growth,
each rock is yearly held by daughters hand,
has fought against increased pull by stroke
each child has practiced every year by oath,
by park or near the smallest stretch of sand,
these water dreams of Reno where I woke.
There is something drawing me to your current,
the time we held onto my babies arms
and brought smile with all your wetness charms,
to forget struggles with the cities rent.
We knew about your quiet hidden pools
where homeless pushed their loaded carts,
where we would swim after admiring Arts
and Crafts sold under shade awnings and stools.
Near Kayak paddles whitened crest will break,
each break a million years of memory,
the nights we spent upon your shore with wine,
to dive and disrupt ripples with our wake.
A city brought to life in sensory
under the “Biggest Little City” sign.
With family patience waited out your flood.
We understood your seasonal temper,
a temper only seen in November
when molten crystals form upon your mud.
Around every corner we will wait,
our children playing in your frosted parks
and dogs on lengthened tether hold their barks,
we know the springtime thaw will seal our fate.
A place on shore for every walk of life.
A four year old will finally learn to swim
with older boys where current has more force.
We stand on shore where once husband and wife,
to monitor our children’s every whim
and notice that the river is on course.