Shifting into Thoreauvian gear
we launch the canoe
in full readiness
for a natural history collecting day
wind-strewn sparkles
race across the bulging surface
leaving ruffled imprints
flowing in their wake
we cruise through the canyon of silver maples
their winged futures rushing past us
waterborne
to downstream rootage
riverbanks brim with yellow-greens
ferns, grasses, wildflower foliage
goose families crowd the shore
redwings crisscross this nesting zone
rich, steeping smells tantalize
delicious tannic teas
decomposing muds
fertility reveals itself
I spot Henry David’s ghost
relaxing in crotch of weathered-sculpted trunk
appreciating
this familiar, redolent regime.
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