Jetting the Klamath

(August 1976)

Damp morning air,
It fills my nostrils.
Running water,
It fills my hearing.
And she fills my mind.

We are together,
In nature.
The boat is launched.
With grace.

The wind;
Cold and wet.
Yet refreshing.
We huddle
beneath our yellow blanket.

Keeping warm.
Foggy morning mist.
The hills;
Rocky banks,
Running into the river.

And fishermen.
The next bend
And the clouds break.

We remove our blanket
As well as our coats.
A lovely day.

No clouds.
The river is peaceful.
A gentle lull.
The water rushing passed
And the steady hum of engine.

A cormorant.
And gulls.
A blue egret.
The Kingfisher.

My arm around her.
She smiles gently.
The sun on her face.
Black hair
And delicate dimple.

The boat docks.
Sand under foot.
Bags in hand;
On the veranda.

Only in the shade.
But who cares.
Not us.

We skip flat stones;
Hopping across the river.
She splashes me.
I threaten to dunk her,
But I don’t.

Again to the boat.
Time to leave.
And happiness.

The return is quicker.
She’s tired.
I’m tired.
My arm around her.
Her head on my shoulder.

Under the Klamath Bridge.
Our Golden Gate
With big boats beneath it.
The journey is ending.
Home once again.

There’s a nostalgic memory.
Of her and I.
A cruise.
A romantic day
And ourselves.

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