In camo he pushes
through shallow rapids
balancing fishing pole
in one hand, daughter
on his shoulders. All pink,
ruffled and blond she bobs,
fingers drumming on daddy’s
sweaty forehead, unwittingly
shading his watchful eyes
from the tripping
sun.
- Robin Woolman
Robin lives near Portland, Oregon where she teaches physical theater. She enjoys hiking the back country and paddling her kayak on local rivers and lakes. Her poems have appeared in Cirque, Deep Wild, Poeming Pigeon, West Chester Review and Red Shoe Press's Oregon Poetry Calendar.
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