A dipper dips in the air ‘n lands upon the twigtangle branch. She’s perched there, preening. All about the tanglebranch of brokentwig it rushroars, raring for the smoothstone leap – the turning, tumbling stream.
Up ‘n down
the slope-paths –
wet-wind; breeze-rain.
Hot choc’lut beckons but we
ascend to a higher point.
The lakes are both below us now (have been for a while) but you wouldn’t know it for the rainhaze, cloudly fogmist mattressing the space between us. Honeymoon-marooned atop the boardwalk planks, placing feet with caution, caref’lly… Boots grip the iron staples; sodden wood.
Clear view! Clear view!
A landslide in the middle-distance!
The upper ‘n the lower lakes
floodflow in standstill!
Worth it.
william altoft 