Over the Red Cedar

One of the many little rivers called Red Cedar runs through Austin Minnesota where I was born and raised and I remember wading in it, and collecting valuable junk that had been left in it, fantasizing about jumping our bikes over it, trying to remove a beaver dam with a dull axe from a leaky rubber boat in it. This past plays havoc with my present and impacts my future. Rivers always bring it back to me that everything changes and some things change real fast like me and my little life and some things change slowly like rivers and hills and deserts. My present is built out of regret and worry and indescribable joy, it is both an apocalypse of fiery hail and a long boring Tuesday afternoon, but as long as I keep my eyes open it is my present: it is where I live right now.