Summer Storm Fragment

There’s no kayaking for us tonight

under the polished coin of a full-lit moon.


The water’s high, unpredictable.

The sinuous creek’s a full-blown silt edged river.


I saw a blue heron today, posed in still-life

along the water’s edge. If the tides were as calm


as that bird, we’d be headed out now, slipping away

to that spot, the island just off-shore.


Whispers would bounce between kayaks and fog-shot cloud.

Shadows like comfortable friends would guide us.


Not tonight. Our whispers would stumble,

the boats would rock, oars out for balance like dancers


on a tightrope. We have known each other for years,

lived on these banks for longer than we’ve known.


Tonight can wait. Take the thermos, the jackets and gin

to the barn, the warm inviting space.


We’ll climb up, hang our feet over the loft’s edge,

talk about everything and nothing until the blush of dawn.


We’ll listen for the warbles and songs of the morning birds,

the sound as wildflowers unfurl in the oncoming daybreak.

Tobi Alfier is a multiple Pushcart nominee and multiple Best of the Net nominee. “Slices of Alice & Other Character Studies” was published by Cholla Needles Press. “Symmetry: earth and sky” was just published by Main Street Rag. She is co-editor of San Pedro River Review (