Thomson River Poem by kara towe

Shimmering light, rippling reflections, folding layers, the small rivers’ waters’ gently rapid white.
They mirror while gliding over smooth graveled, muddied beds feathered by aquatic forests that sway in a uni-cent dance, where the small watery creatures find refuge and feed.
Behind the boulders, just after the rapids’ shoots lay bigger pools where inland salmon leer, weaving their bodies against a steady push, shaded by the rivers edge, fallen log or sturdy bush, waiting patiently for a meal to come by or to snatch it from the sky.
Dappled, trickling, and lightly popping sounds fill the air as the water presents its’ fare.
Listening to droplets as they rejoin the river at a tangled twigs bend where beavers made a den.
Ringlets span like watery hellos when the life beneath surfaces so briefly giving a hint to its' existence.
They appear like magic, captivating the eye, stirring the imagination, and lifting my spirit.
All at once I am home.