River smooth, glass river,
no whitecaps, not even ripples.

I want to lace-up my white
figure skates and glide forward,
then with ease push backwards 
until I cut a circle on the wet glass.

I could stroll in my fur-lined boots
from the Indiana shore to Cox’s Park,
or maybe to the River House for a prosecco.

A tricksters, these waters.  
June sleek, June quiet,
not wintry ice.
So many ways to be fooled
by the Ohio River.