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Show RTVER morning made it bearable. Under a bright sky the world glistened in the clean spring light. The river ran high and strong all day, the blue sky lashed by a cold wind. In the afternoon long black bands of clouds marched up the Ohio, while a high wind kicked up white-capped swells that rocked the boat like B. B. King rocks the blues. As the long bars of cloud swept overhead I'd pass from rain and shadow back into sunlight and back into the rain. An arrowhead formation of geese followed the river northward with a cry that was the sound of wild freedom. As the afternoon wore on, rainbows arched across the river from shore to shore, piercing each new wall of rain and cloud and casting shimmering bands of color that provided a dazzling contrast to the black clouds and blue sky. I stood in my boat as it bucked and pitched over the breaking swells, dizzy, shouting, singing, crazy with joy. Inspired by the music in the wind, I wrote a song called "Rainbow on the Ohio." At last I saw a vision that would have made old Noah smile, a double rainbow, rainbow arching over rainbow like two golden bridges across the wide river. I felt better than I had in months. That evening I made camp on the Illinois shore and watched the sun go down. In the red glow I made peace with the world: the furies that had pursued me for the last year seemed to have lost my trail. I was glad to be alive. The next morning I met Fred. The day after that I met Ralph. The day after that I met the Mississippi once again. Now, drifting down through a warm afternoon, I decided to lay back and enjoy it. This particular stretch of river was good country, high green bluffs on the Kentucky side and thickly forested banks on the Missouri. The joining rivers -149- |