Rafting the swirling dark water of the Snake,
With just a blanket of grey to mark our way.
The smoke hangs low in the cloudless sky,
From the fire that burns beyond the bridge.
We are floating inside this canyon ridge,
Seeking refuge from what reigns above,
New age tourists in our own pioneer dream,
Cut off from the world, liberated and alone.
Floating like the Corp into the deep unknown,
I cast my line toward the reed covered shore.
The bass are waiting in the deep dark pools.
The breeze echoes down the steep canyon wall.
We look for a place to camp, as the shadows fall.
The rafts are unloaded, the tents are unfolded,
And we fish some more from the reed covered shore,
Standing in the fertile glow of the bright camp light,
Seeking comfort from the coolness of the night.
A few more beers and many stories retold,
But in the re-telling, never seem to grow old.
Somewhere near or far, coyotes begin to call.
With the heavens above concealed from us all,
My tent and bag become a welcome oasis,
And sleep comes quickly, after days like this.
I dream of a world without smoke on the water.