when you were out of things to say

Mission Creek, Montana

A river, sunk deep into the prairie

remembers the time I fished in it with my father

in a deep Montana evening. Fish

swam by in their race towards autumn,

but neither of us felt the need to chase them.

There were arrowheads that had been lying

in the tall grasses, a hundred years of waiting

to greet our fingers with their unsure edges,

broken backs.

The night broke over our shoulders,

mine young and his quickly aging, so we

returned to the car and left only

the river there to remember the solitary evening

when Montana had become more than a place,

but a sacred breath to take

when you were out of things to say,

when you were out of things to sanctify.

Patricia Schlutt, age 15

Grand Rapids, Michigan

Teacher: Rodney Torreson

2010 River of Words Finalist