Elkhorn Ferry

Our truck clung to the step ramp on the levee

As we waited for our turn onto the ferry,

Meandering from the Yolo County side

Of the Sacramento River. My father

And I did this about twice a year, when junk

Piled high enough on our farm to warrant a trip

To the Woodland landfill. The shortest way there

Was on that ferry, country road all the way

Except for that slow crossing of the River.

Once on board, I’d get out, look into the depths

Of the current forever or watch the cable

Grind the ferry along in its jerky rhythms.

I left for college crossing on that ferry.

Two years later, a sleek freeway bridge was there,

Cars moving fast enough above the River

That the passengers would not even see it

Although I don’t get through there as often

In my aged days, I see the River whenever I cross it,

Slow to the pace I used to travel in my youth,

Watch the water flow to a place of peace.

June 2007