Paddling Fish Creek
In our separate kayaks we explore,
you fishing, casting hope beneath the water.
I paddle the other direction, face turned toward the sky
making cartoon characters out of clouds.
My eyes drift down, to where the creek fills the harbor.
I see a snapping turtle dive, digging the water
claws stretched out, legs pulling and pushing
shell shifting back and forth with each grasp of water.
I don’t know how long the doe was watching me,
water dripping from her mouth, a slip of grass
dangling from her lips; brown eyes fixed on me,
her body still, except for the twitch of white tail.
I hold my breath, my paddle poised
motionless in midair. The doe and I,
locked in a stare, our quickening hearts
beating as one.