The Genesee flows north, like the Nile. Unlike the Nile, it meanders all over the place getting to Lake Ontario. In Wellsville it bisects the town, a gentle green-banked river most of the year. By the time it reaches Letchworth, the river carves deeply into walls of rock. It grows by Rochester into a power-generating force, tumbling over three falls in the city, and providing the resources for that area’s manufacturing history.
We stood on the bridge near the Genesee brewery on a cold, wintery day. Conor and Ivy squabbled, but I heard only the water. Hello, old friend.
365/radical elements 
Next time you’re standing on the bridge throw a “poem in a bottle” into the river. It will hopefully wend its way to the northern shore of Lake Ontario where I’ll be able to retrieve it and directly connect with the beauty of your words.
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Wow. And cool thought, Helen.
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I wondered why I recognized Genesee until I saw brewery after it.
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The photo looks almost post-apocalyptic to me.
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It does. Or like some Soviet city in the 1970s.
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