Missouri River Cottonwoods

by Karen Jones

Thunder growls under Meadowlark song.
Clouds pile the horizon, the river glides.

Cottonwoods, ancient children, lean
along the bank.  Their roots seek cool waters.

Rugged bark covers massive trunks.
Limbs, dry old bones, full of gnarls and knobs,

bend to the ground like knees of giants.
Dead twigs tangle in cracks of heartwood.

Young boughs, smooth and limber,
bounce and sway easy as a porch swing.

Leaves spin on long, flattened stems,
rain-patter in breeze.  Finest of leather hearts,

they sparkle like sun on water, like haloes
of vibrant atoms, ever green in the drying wind.