Mother of sons

        narrow breaks

in grasses

prongs pressed into 

        soft dirt

                  pointing to..

       lupine banks,

pools of rainbows

          I can do this all day, 

                follow you little fawn

          up river

snapping pictures

of fish

          i am the one who stamps,

     time..

 you are the one,

casting from fallen trunks

           in thin sneakers

              with worn out treads

                 that lay precipitously,

over swift currents..

I am trying to trust you,

       but I have the route

mapped out..

      to save you

          when you slip in

               where the river

                    widens

               sedges spread into

                    open territory 

                             fluttering 

                                   black eyes

                    7-foot rods

                         dangling lines

                    men

                         trying out 

                    their tricks

                         shiny decorated metals

                    white noise

                          goes by

                          I’m forgotten,

                               you’re way up river

                          water hyperfocus

                               an outdoor classroom

                          commands

                               your attention

                          

                          feathery balls of pollen

                               fade,

                                    in swirls

                               of gentle currents 

                          on the walk

                    back to camp    

              letting go,

     is not easy

but there is discovering,

         and rediscovering

that is all my own