Jensie’s thoughts

“Jensie looked at the river. This here was the Nueces, and a prettier river she never did see. Not that old Sabine river they’d crossed to Texas over. That one was worse than a bayou, water thicker than week-old coffee, and the high tangle-rooted mudbanks, and away off on both sides, the salt-grassmarsh. Nor the Trinity, nor the Brazos. Nor the Colorado, neither. The Colorado had reminded Jensie of nothing so much as an old fat-backed water moccasin winding down-country. They’d crossed all those rivers, yes, and more, but this here was the prettiest river she ever did see. It was open to the sun, clear and trickle-tongued, didn’t need to keep no secrets. It was that clear, you could have seen your heart through it. Why, Jensie could see the bottom right from where she sat. And along on both sides, it was a white road, each stone of it scrubbed cleaner than a drinking-gourd by the water and the sun. Road for a king.”

From Rocksprings by R. G. Vliet

The Hudson Review, Vol. 26, No. 1 (Spring 1973)

 

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