Rivers of Russia

Arctic Rivers race down the tundra,
the taiga, the steppes, become the long rivers,
the Volga, the Dnieper, the Don— then push on
to pour themselves into the Black Sea—
sometimes flowing iridescent silver with moonlight,
sometimes brown, sometimes green, sometimes dark gray or blue,
sometimes incandescent red with blood, sometimes pure gold.

This poem is in the book Diamonds in a Stony Field
by Alla Renée Bozarth, copyright 2011. All rights reserved.

poem by Alla Renee Bozarth
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Independence and Reconciliation Celebration

It began with heartbreaking remembrance,
the acrid smell of canon fire still in the air
after half a century, the exhausted climb
up Cemetery Hill still felt in their muscles—

They had returned, veterans from both sides,
North and South, to re-enact their movements
on the last of those bloody three days
of the Battle of Gettysburg.

In the final Southern charge of the war~
12,500 Confederate soldiers led by
General George Pickett went straight up
that hill and into the line of fire by Union
troops waiting behind a stone wall.

Pickett lost half his men.
Of the 160,000 Americans
on both sides,51,000 or more
died in those three days

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poem by Alla Renee Bozarth
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Dance Then to Everything

Music is everywhere
music is in sound and
music is in silence

Therefore I dance
to silence I dance
to tears I dance
to laughter I dance
to groans and moans

I dance to Rachmaninoff
and Bach, to Beethoven
and Dylan, to Carole King
and Marvin Gay and to everything
composed, harmonious and played

Dance then to birdsong and waterfall,
to the spring scented forest and garden,
to snow and the rain, to river and ocean,
with desert or mountain, I dance

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poem by Alla Renee Bozarth
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