Little River Love Poem

The early summer light
steps birdlike
down the east slope of Green Mountain,
and stirs low mists along the river
into flight.

Back inside, you lie
still asleep in your summer skin.
A blue sheet thrown back like a dress,
your dark hair
spilled rain over your shoulders.

Having so much and nothing at all
to say,
I slip cold arms around you.
You turn, sleepily,
and a deep green river
drifts away in your waking eyes.

From a wooden skiff
tied to a salmonberry bush,
you step ashore,
holding in your arms
everything I ever let slip away.


From In Blue Mountain Dusk: Poems by Tim McNulty, © 1992, Pleasure Boat Studio, New York