Spring on the Salmon

I learned to row

my first day on the salmon

the rolling waves and holes

shrugged me off,

pushing me along unscathed

As if saying:

"Run along, my child,

I have work to do."

My blistered hands,

sunburnt skin,

and pounding heart

were no concern

of the mighty impermanence

rushing around and over me.

Now I love this river,

more than I did before,

not because she taught me to row

or because I love

the sweeping, fluid feeling

of catching wave after wave.

But because I matter so little to her.

because she puts me in my place

along with the sands that shift

and the canyons that carve away.