Half a Day

IMG_0445It wasn’t much. I didn’t even leave the house last Saturday before noon. A 45-minute bike shuttle, a couple of hours alone in a canoe on the lower Gallatin. Nothing much, except the music of water, the sleek heads of mergansers, the croak of raven, the sweep of river pushing against bank, leaves beginning to yellow, the rattle of kingfisher, a side channel I’d never tried before, a floating lunch at the pace of current, at rest in the late fall warmth. And, near the end, a sheath of glass-clean river pouring molten over a step of ledge, small beauty enough to make the heart yearn.

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