Commercial White Water Rafting
Rather than pouting, the pair pointed upward
in a gaze, daring the gathered around them
to see the bearings of the universe in the fight
on one lone eagle gliding in the blue of dispersed
light. On their feet, the gesture of the two, leads
the others to the untouchable show above them.
Soon, the Eagle disappears in the updraft,
and we return to our smoked gouda sandwiches.
The Arkansas River leading to prime show
of Browns Canyon still flows past, while the rental
equipment loses a bit of its water coating to the sun.
The 12 year old boy from Delaware still talks of the Golden
Eagle’s visit as if the bird made a personal visit.
The meaning and metaphor are there, but my hands
too small to grasp it. Between our lunches end, the fourteen
of us, our two rafts, and our remounting in formation,
I count eleven passing rafts filled, two kayaks
and one canoe, which means seventy-seven
photos will snapped before ours. The pair that fell
into the cold Colorado river water just before lunch
will, fifteen years later, still have the frame image
on their living room wall. The boy? He is lost
to the mystery though his breaking voice remains.