The Family of The River                                      

We ran ferries                                    
              trapped                                    
              and hunted                                    
              on this river.                        
We poled john boats                                    
               strung trot lines                                    
               and gigged frogs                                    
on this river.                        
We stood on banks                                       
eroded by time                        
and watched history                                    
pass by.

Then…                                     
            we moved                        
to the factories                        
and farms…                        
spread out to Ohio                                    
and far away places.                        
Still                        
every  now and then                        
we met                        
reunited                        
                on this river.                          

Wars and worries                        
killed us off.                        
People and places                        
distracted us                        
and soon                        
there was only memories                                    
              floating                                    
              on this river.                                    

Generations                        
gapped and sagged                        
             until…                          
we lost touch                        
             until…                                    
             we no longer knew each other.                                                                            
Brothers and sisters                        
fought over relics                        
who’s meaning and memory                        
were quickly lost                                    
              to the bickering                                   
              and anger.                          

But some…                                    
             a few            
kept the vigil                        
             held firm                        
             to the hope that            
no matter how distant            
or how angry            
some were                        
           we would still                        
           be family.            
We would always remember             
ferries and frogs            
john boats and catfish            
family and friend.            
Some knew            
there is a bond…                        
                an earthy clay…            
that holds this family together            
and while the waters of time            
wash by            
we will remain            
the family            
who ran ferries                        
             on this river.

Tony Sexton