Stanza One

In the poem's initial stanza, the phrase “These open years” paints a vivid picture of young Jennifer’s childhood—a fleeting, unbound time brimming with endless potential. The poem’s six-year-old muse finds herself at the heart of this reflection, as the speaker draws us into a world shaped by the imagery of a river. Here, the Teton River unfurls its watery path, stretching 110 miles eastward from the Lewis and Clark National Forest, carving through Teton and Choteau counties before it mingles with the Missouri River near Loma, Montana. This river, teeming with the vibrant life of native Yellowstone cutthroat trout and hatchery brook and rainbow trout, serves as a muse for Hugo, who is likely inspired by a real-life encounter with Jennifer, possibly while they fished or canoed along these flowing waters.

The speaker weaves a delicate tapestry by likening the young girl’s childhood to a riverbed, a place where one learns the “laws of bounce and run.” Both the innocence of youth and the riverbed’s firm foundation act as the groundwork upon which greater things—identity and mighty rivers—are constructed. The phrase “laws of bounce and run” hints at the principles of physics, the natural order that governs existence. In the stanza's final line, the speaker turns directly to the child, acknowledging her understanding of the moon's mystery and the significance of her own name, hinting at its historical roots. The name “Jennifer,” derived from the Celtic Gwenhwyvar (Guinevere), often translates to “white wave,” or possibly “white skin” or “white shoulders.”

Stanza Two

Assuming the role of an educator, the speaker guides Jennifer through a river’s tale, portraying water as “locked tight in a sieve.” This imagery captures the essence of rivers, beloved by beavers who greedily make their homes along its banks. The narrative delves into the forceful “opaque runoff” that courses through the land, suggesting Hugo's depiction of the Lower Teton, where the river sculpts enormous banks through nutrient-rich soil, leading to heavy sedimentation. As the mountain waters cleanse the river by summer, the speaker reassures the child that just as turbulent times in life can cloud our vision, they too shall pass, leaving clarity in their wake. This sentiment is encapsulated in the line, “Jennifer, believe / by summer streams come clean for good.”

Stanza Three

Here, the speaker paints a lively portrait of both child and otter, capturing their essence in actions like “swirl, jump, dash and delirious veer.” These words conjure a sense of exuberance and freedom, mirroring the river’s lively movements. Such playful spontaneity is celebrated as a way of life, suggesting that it is sometimes better to embrace life’s unpredictability than to navigate strictly by calculated risks. This theme resonates in the concluding line, “games from organized games,” highlighting the joyous spontaneity of unstructured play against the rigid predictability of games governed by rules.

Stanza Four

The stanza explores the interconnectedness of all existence, with the speaker illustrating this idea by noting, “This river is part of a bigger [river]. / That, another [river].” A theme of language’s role in shaping human identity emerges in the line, “We get bigger and our naming song gets lost.” As one grows, perhaps losing the wide-eyed wonder of youth—the “naming song”—language reveals its power to impose order upon the world. The “awful ghost” singing off-tune might symbolize an adult who has lost their way amidst life’s complexities.

Stanza Five

In a tender moment, the speaker addresses Jennifer directly, urging her to “say this poem” when she is “old and nearing the sea,” an eloquent metaphor for approaching life’s end. The river that serenades her childhood...