The Spring Melt is revving up here in the Rockies. For a few precious weeks, the creeks up in the mountains are leaping and hopping, while down in the valleys the rivers are running fast and high. Susan Marsh helps us appreciate all this bounty in her poem “Mountain Water,” from Deep Wild 2022:
Springing milky-sweet
From the glacier’s hem
A slap of newborn water
Clear and bold as single-malt
At 37 degrees, with notes
Of lichen, dolomite and moss.
It numbs the tongue.
Against its chill
Teeth tighten in their sockets.
This water is a sacrament
A concentrate of geologic time
Of gravity and friction
Slowly carving a gorge
Into the mountain. Stand
In its fine spray, bear witness
To the birth of a great river.
Lean into a mica-bright pool
Cup both hands, lift and drink.
Slurp without grace or shame
Greedily, hungrily, gratefully
Lips locking fishlike in your palm.
You would climb all day for this moment.
Artist, writer, and inveterate hiker Susan Marsh lives in Jackson, Wyoming. She is one of the 53 writers and artists whose work is featured in the 2022 issue of Deep Wild: Writing from the Backcountry, forthcoming this June. To learn more, and to order a copy, visit deepwildjournal.com
Deep Wild Journal 