The Rivers Daughter

As I waded though the glassy reflection of the trees, I’m safe under the canopy of branches and leaves. The barren mud is smeared, smudged across my hands. I bask in the shade, laying on the land, and thriving, green vegetation cast a dusk over the searing sand. The light is scarce, in the bronze murk of the creek. I dip and dive under the shelter of the boughs, gliding through the water. For I am the river's daughter.