Rolling on the River

 

I can hear Tina Turner right now signing this tune.

Big wheels keep on turning 

Proud Mary keeps on burning 

Rolling, rolling

Rolling on the river

Rolling, say we rolling

Rolling on the river

I feel incredibly lucky to live very near the East River where day and night I can take a ferry to midtown Manhattan or sit on the Long Island City Piers and watch tankers, blue sailboats, boys on jet skis, barges pushing coal, orange sightseeing yachts, the police guarding the United Nations in their boats.

I can hear the wave’s crash onto the manmade walls, the wakes quickly rippling sideways resulting from a passing nautical vehicle.

I have been to the river at four in the morning listening to the current. The current has no conception of time. It moves at its own pace. I have been to the river in storms. White crested fast-moving streams of cold black water well over eight feet high are common.

On moonlight nights when the tide is low there are gushes and occasional avalanches of smashing water on pointy barely hidden rocks.

As I take a ferry ride to Manhattan, I know this closest watercraft to a Mississippi River Boat I will ever see in New York City.

Happily, I sing: Rolling, rolling, Rolling on the river, Rolling, say we rolling, Rolling on the river, do, do, do, do…………………………………

Georgia