Whitewater rafting
we cascade down rainbow-hued
lambent sprays of water
filling the vaporous air

and slip-slide glissando
over lichen-covered shale,
gravel, sand, clay, and silt.

Hurtling by alluvial pools
of startled speckled trout
swarming in confusion
and staring at us with puzzled eyes,

we flip over end to end.
Laughter turns to shrieks and squeals.
We draw-stroke into a pirouette
spinning with the current.

With wild momentum we crash
over a boulder-strewn bottom
down the bowels of a gorge.
A faint noise becomes a roar.

A plangent howl of a coyote.

Our silhouettes on a canyon wall.
Obstacles are alarming.
Big mama waves wait for us
at the precipice of a waterfall.

Dizzyingly, in a shiver of light,
we hit a wall of water
flowing from the firmament,
the point of no return.