Sitting by the River

by Jacob Beilinson

The trickle of the river,

Tickles any type of shiver,

The crisp air,

Eradicates all despair,

Its cool breeze,

Swooshing between the mighty trees,

The cushiony earth

Provide the comfort and warmth,

Of the eternal hearth

The boulder, cool and gray,

Inviting one to come and stay,

Its mossy covering,

Allowing for cerebral recovering.


The birds chirp sporadically,

Their raptor melody,

Assisting the fish,

As they lift from the consistent current,

Enjoying the bliss of the moment,

In the world,

Of the infinite woodland mist.

JACOB BEILINSON: I am currently a Freshman at the University of Albany. I'm from Connecticut for the most part, a little bit of Long Island, now an Albany resident. Living apart from that world, exploring this new diverse environment has very much shaped me as a person and as a poet. Poetry is a part of my exploration process and I explore my processes through poetry.