TEMPERANCE RIVER

Waves of wind rush by
I love how my tent rests in it;
the forest,
a village of like minded domes
Nancy would say its an encampment

I sit down a hill,
back against a short needled conifer,
an anchor in the woods where the sun reaches
the air pushes by, it comes up from the Temperance,
our Singing River

cools everything
makes my right ear and neck cold,
the center of my chest and forehead
where the light beams
heat.


Linnea Hadaway 1999