A river flows through my city,
Dissecting it from north to south right down the middle. I live on "her" east side.
"She" is the mighty Wisconsin. Here you see only half her girth, for the left shore is actually an island splitting her right in half.
In our fair city her banks are lined with parks and walkways. In the warm summer months her waters are bedecked with boats, bathers, and fishermen.
But do not be fooled! She is not always a gentle peaceful giant.
This spring she is revealing her quiet nature - - -but last?
Ah, last spring when piles of snow up and down her river's edge melted,
she was a raging tyrant rising out of her banks - - -
And sweeping anything and everything in her path southward and westward to the Mississippi.
Nor does she ONLY play or rage.
She is a working river, lending her waters to the manufacture of paper in many of the communities up and down her banks - my city being one of those paper making towns.
(Please use notebooks, paper, and magazines - the folk of my village will thank you for you bring us prosperity.)
She is a presence and a force to be reckoned with in my city.
And I love her.