Lazy River Trip

Some might call this a lazy river trip – nine miles,
four days, three nights on the same beach – but isn’t it
easier to pack up each day than to stay and try
to really feel a place? I can spend an hour watching
the waterbugs and another hour watching the shadows
on the beach on the far bank, which isn’t far. I like
to listen to the rapids, the same rapids for few days,
and sleep with their sounds, and to mark the level
of the river with a stick and then watch it as the storms
come and go. I like to see the sun rise over the ridgeline
upstream. I like the horseflies and how the minnows
munch on you. I like what the rain does to my footprints
on the beach, and to imagine this place in flood,
all underwater, as it is in winter and other times. I like

how waterbugs skate the river’s edge, and the eddy,
that pulse of swells curling around the beach’s point, how
the sun hits the ledge on river left just downstream,
the rectangular beach, steep-edged, across the runout.
Virginia pine and more Virginia pine. Toad chirr at night.
Scribble of the mussel’s path in the shallows, how
downstream here is west & how the storms build
from the west, how they miss us sometimes. I like
the sand, quartz & mica, good on the heel & ball,
not too fine. I like waking up and walking first thing
into the water, and lying on my back, feeling held by
the water, feeling the river’s breath all around me,
and knowing I can come back and lie in the river some
more, maybe all day, after making a little coffee.