July 17, 2022, Priest River, Idaho

 

Where the river bends, life begins

Or perhaps it’s just before,

And continues far beyond.

 

Wildflowers line the banks

Regular attendees to an endless parade,

A seasonal gathering as old as the hills.

 

Birds chirp like restless children,

Flicker and dart after unsuspecting bugs,

Nature’s endless hide and seek.

 

A solo eagle glides a steady sail

Surveilling all there is below.

The trout just plain hide.

 

Rocks haphazardly strewn

Create treachery and wild.

Geese have gathered, enjoy the ride.

 

White water spills and swirls,

Eddies relent into holes,

Stalwart lodgepole keep time to the river hum.

 

There’s a single chair on a makeshift beach.

There’s always space at the river

To buoy a heavy heart.

 

Beginnings and endings matter not to the river.

No self-imposed fear

Brought about by grasping branch or root.

 

She brushes along banks

With fury in early spring,

Only to languish in the heat of summer.

 

No feeble complaints heard – trust implied.

Changes improvised with storm and season;

A leaf caught in the current swept away.

 

What is it about nature

unbridled and undisturbed?

A primordial umbilicus tugs

On the unleashed and unsettled and chaotically orchestrated

Parts of myself. Swept up and effortlessly carried away.

I can almost remember a time with wings

In my bones, I mean …

Exhilarating lift, banking, dragging, diving

with talons poised

Or maybe it’s the talons piercing my sides

I remember.

Tossing a pebble for each unsurfaced regret.

There’s an endless supply

Of pebbles, I mean …

Each plunk and splash swallowed and gone.

My shoulder blades soften into place,

a fatigue that’s not really mine relents.

What’s this unfamiliar yet welcomed settle

if not simple acceptance of what is?

Perhaps I’ll take another photo in evening light

As if a mother’s heartbeat can be captured.

Oh, to preserve the secrets to this unburdened.

I pray I die listening to this sound.