I sit on a boulder in the Trinity River and try to make peace with my fear of bears out here. I will leave it with the tadpoles around my ankles, speckled stones, tall grass, and the frog’s eyes just above the surface.
I will try to sit in stillness like that frog. Watch water rush over fallen firs, duck my head to avoid a swallowtail flying into me. I eye a garter snake swimming S’s, a lizard
in a redwood shadow. There are greater fears out there, a child’s death, the pink mist of a terrorist. The river deafens all sound. Except rapids, the croak of a frog, and what can only be the splash of a paw.
Photo Credit: Robert Mapplethorpe
originally published in The Monterey Poetry Review