Seasons on the Menominee

Dear George,
My Poetry Writing Workshop is back in full swing, so I've been re-inspired.  Our first assignment was to write a poem drawing upon the five senses.  I picked my favorite topic and came up with the following result.
Love,
Dave

Seasons on the Menominee

Spring

The ice on the river broke up in mid-spring 

The clattering crystals produced a dull roar

On shore we’d watch what the current might bring 

A bucket, a rope, a boat’s single oar

By May Pig Island turned pale green 

The trillium blossomed at Brewery Park 

Violets and buttercups lit up the scene

Downriver at night we could hear a dog bark

Too cool for swimming, we’d take our green boat

Searching for treasure in a neighbor’s lagoon

Sometimes we’d stop to relax and just float

Listening to the cries of a heron or loon

           

Summer

Swimming began by the first week in June

Steven was always the first to dive in

The shock of the water made young kiddies swoon

We marveled at the goosebumps that dotted our skin 

We swam underwater with eyes open wide           

The view was gritty, distorted, and brown

Sounds were muffled and warped by the tide

We held our breath and worked to stay down

Snapping turtles were life’s greatest fear

They’d swim by at dusk, their noses breathing air

Underwater we feared that these monsters were near

We’d splash away with a shudder and a prayer

Autumn

Pig Island exploded with colors galore 

The birch were golden, the maples deep red 

At twilight we’d spot two deer on the shore

Or find their shed antlers in the forest instead

The weather turned cool, time for swimming now over

The smell of burnt leaves filled the autumn air 

We searched on the lawn for a four-leaf clover

The sunsets on the river were a glitzy affair

We gathered cattails from the river’s shore

Then left them to dry for eight long weeks

We set them on fire with a joyful roar

And raced round the drive with howls and shrieks

Winter

The river in winter was enveloped in white 

And oaks in the forest had shed all their leaves

The sun on the snow was uncomfortably bright

Huge icicles stretched to the earth from the eaves

Tiny chickadees dined at my mother’s feeder

Squirrels gathered lost seeds from the ground

The deer came at midnight to nibble our cedar

The howl of the wind made a ghostly sound

We shoveled the ice for a skating rink 

And built large forts for a snowball fight 

We’d stop by the house for a hot chocolate drink

Then back to the river in the waning light

Epilogue

It’s sixty years since I lived on the river

It’s as fresh in my mind as the day that I left

Poems about rivers always make my heart quiver

That may well explain why I’m feeling bereft