My daughter, jacketed in red, squats on a stone in the stream, swirling the water with a twig, concentrating, hoping to snag a tadpole or fish, but mostly she just listens to the whoosh of the water. My son, pale as a newborn, splashes naked nearby. Birds of every color soar all around us like angels. While hoping for some sun, I look out toward the horizon.
edge of the river
I walk along carrying
a patch of the sky