Eighth Month, Seventh Day

August cast you haloed, black
atop the water. A flyfished figurine
fused to a rock, bellied down.

Below the surface, smolt team and turn
tentative. Downstream.

Below the surface, Coho surge
silver, solitary.

Upstream. Upstream.

Frozen under the sun
wind whips and gravity pulls
keep you floating, still not knowing:

coming, going?