Comment on this article

Along the Salmon River
by Michael Escoubas

It is late summer
hints of autumn's perfume
scent the air:
pinesap drips its yellow ooze,
leaves begin their orange burn,
applewood smoke drifts
down the draw from town.
I roll my jeans up past
my knees, step into the icy
stream. I feel the bubbly rush
of Chinook, Sawtooth and Kokanee
their opalescent bodies shimmer
in sunlight. I lose all sense
of myself. I'm a twig
among purple mountains
the mountains wrap themselves
in chiffon clouds. I feel my
face planted among bare
bosoms of hills. The river
lives out its name singing its
ancient memorized symphony.


Return to:

[New] [Archives] [Join] [Contact Us] [Poetry in Motion] [Store] [Staff] [Guidelines]