Why I Didn't Fish

Willows at the edge of windy canyon flutter,
switchback winding one lane road and cold
gravel track, rock debris, a downward grade.

Rushing water currents thundering like wind
through pine trees and crooked oak. Reddish
sediment, swirling haystack, eddies and seam.

Yellow leaves like sunrise to shadowy forest,
tree stumps, fallen logs, and gray boulders,
sandy slope lake bottom exposed in October.

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This amorphous thought stuns the ego.
Enormous fears fight themselves into nothingness.

An approaching dark darkens and settles
like embers in the fire of the coming night.

Cottonwood at the river's edge,
smooth rounded rocks,
shallow water rapids,
the landscape of the imagination

pushes on its expedition
into mountainous terrain.