Air currents lean toward the setting Idaho sun

Shifting to and fro like adolescent dreams,

Shadows wrap ‘round the bend

Darkening the lapping waterline

Softly flowing toward the rising sea.

A fisherman casts hopes with a practiced flick,

Someone splits fresh fallen kindling

As magic warms the river rock circle, and

Ignites the lovers’ lust under a rising waxing moon.

River days fill the boater’s venerable spirit,

River nights refresh his simple soul, and

Tomorrow’s morning dew washes clean the past.

Originally published at

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