When the Rivers Were Roads

Dave Nealon
Copyright 2009 Dave Nealon


Just thinking one day about eastern Virginia a few centuries back. Tried to capture one little glimpse.


Wooden hogshead barrels full of that brightleaf gold tumbling down to the plantation wharf on that old rolling road.

Weren’t no use to drive to town, try to sell your load. You just stack that old flatboat high back when the rivers were roads.

Back when the rivers were the only roads--pushing hard upstream. Up the creek to build freedom’s home on the shores of a dream.

There’s no harbor city here; each farm trades on its own. Bermuda, Paris, or Amsterdam back when the rivers were roads.