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.
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