River Meeting
I sat, hunkered down,
On a boulder by the river,
Beneath the leaning trees,
Watching time drift by,
Along with the waters.

It was late afternoon,
The shadows growing,
In the wooded gorge.

She came floating, easily,
Around the bend,
Out from among the bush.

Stroking the river,
Gently caressing it,
First with one blade,
Then the other.

Gliding 'twixt and 'tween,
Among the rocks,
Heading toward the upper shore.

She walked the portage,
To the boulders,
On the other side.

There she sat,
studing the sluice,
Watching how the waters ran,
Between gaint rocks.

She looked up, as I stared at her,
We acknowledged each other's presence.

There we sat, eye to eye,
Though the river flowed between us.
Kindred spirits out in the wilds,
Communing with our nature.

She the river rider,
I the trail walker.

Her helmet laid beside her,
Then her vest laid there too.
My shirt came off,
tossed onto on my pack.
She looked for a moment,
Her river boots where soon by the helmet.
My boots and socks quickly joined the shirt.

We looked across the rapids,
She smiled,
So did I.

Her top slipped over her head,
Then slid down, off her arm.
My jeans, unbuttoned, unzipped,
fell and kicked aside.

She reached to her hips,
Pushed her cutoffs down.
I did the same to my boxers.
They too fell, both together,
Stepped out of, together.

We sat back down upon the boulders,
She on hers, me on mine,
The river flowing 'twixt and 'tween us.

Time flowed by too, minutes into an hour or so.
We sat for awhile, walked around for a while,
Climbing over rocks along the river's edge,
All the while seperated by the rushing waters.
We sat or stood at times,
Looking, studing, enjoying each other's company.

The shadows were longer now.
She looked back down the river,
I toward the darkness growing among the trees,
Then we looked through each other eyes,
Soul to Soul.

Together we returned to our piles of gear.
She on her side, me on mine.
We dressed, without looking,
To see what the other was doing.
She picked up her helmet, I my pack.

She smiled, so did I.
With a parting wave of hands,
We returned to our own worlds.
Kindred spirits, out in the wilds,
Communing with our nature.

She the river rider,
Me the trail walker.


ThoughtSmithing 1999. © jwhughes 1999