photo: richard purinton
Kayaks
by
Patricia Wellingham-Jones
Each
spring they swoop
down
the creek on snowmelt—
red
and yellow, emerald green,
ultramarine
with purple stripe.
Each
kayak so fragile
the
paddler lifts it
in
one hand, this thin-skinned
shell
of safety
flicks
them down Mt. Lassen
around
Black Rock, over rapids.
Swirls
them through Mill Creek canyon
where
boulders choke the angry stream
to
flash by my house
in
a final flurry of speed.
They
whip a right angle turn,
slide
each boat up the bank.
Leaving
their fish-bird realm
behind,
paddlers reel
light-headed,
dense-bodied
onto
the land.
~
previously published in The Horsethief’s
Journal
