Upstream

Light chevrons flat water; a shirtless
canoeist wears the morning on his back,
drops firing the air as his paddle arcs.
I have tracked the river to where the mangroves
take hold and the bird life gets serious —
a kingfisher, totemic on a pole;
pelicans cruising low — three wing beats then
a glide; sacred ibis gathered in a field
as if on a contemplative picnic.
In reedy nooks, lone fishermen dream up
hot dinners. I skirt their silence while
preserving my own, which grows more spacious
the further I move from cars, lawnmowers, dogs;
builds into an airy shell.