Winter On The Ottawa River

Ice huts sit placidly prepared
for fishing over the ice-and-snow
blanketed Ottawa River benignly
bordering the capital city of Canada.
This is an immense waterway,
one of the watery giants of this
natural-resource-blessed country.

Where once sturdy voyageurs
determinedly began the history we
now barely recall, labouring mightily
to transport furs and virgin-cut
forests along its tumultuous length.

Where now towns and cities
flourish across provinces of
the founding nations. Ever at odds
over language and culture and
rare entitlements, whereas the river
knows its useful place in the
traditions of the country.

The mighty Chaudiere Rapids
harnessed for electrical energy
roil still though their vast power
has been constrained, stilled in
the interests of civilization's needs.
Lest we forget it references long
centuries-value of history.

Vast open stretches ripple
ferociously under the dark
winter sky, the water an angry
grey reflection of the upper
atmosphere that informs
its tempestuous temperament.

On the river's banks immense
old willows and elms spread
their dark, empty branches.
Crows soar the windless
pewter bowl of the lowering
winter sky. On its banks

sit the seat of government, the
country's Gothic-inspired
stone-mounted and Gargoyle-carved
edifice of the Parliament Buildings,
its clock tower steepling the sky.