Minnows are gamboling with mud-weed greetings
in the water besides my beach chair,
placed in the shallow San Francisco River
near some small rapids -- I absorb it all…

Closing my eyes, the sound of cicadas
intensifies in the cottonwoods
that line the bank behind me;
while the rushing, gurgling water
cascades its unceasing song of fluidity,
caressing and changing my lines.
The smell of scorched desert heat mingles
with the liquid fragrance of my desert river,
salving a desert-molded soul.

A red, mid-size dragonfly lands
on the top of my foot,
the part out of water, tickling my senses
with its clingy claws. And, again,
on my uplifted toes.
It is watching its competition
on an island rock a few feet away.

The largest minnows are hanging
to the left of me, circling rocks
and finning hellos, the small ones
play under miniature water plants,
unconcerned by my gaze of delight.

I bleed my worries into the waters,
flow and flee and free my essence,
reframe my constricted mind.

Once again, the dragonfly takes up its post,
tickling, and gifting me with river peace,
from the tip of my toe
to the depths of my head.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 6/25/04