Hold still, touch the compact smoldering soil. The flesh of salmon is translucent as flame. Heat and ardor, tender interior, smoke and calm weeds. The fire is a furious matter of watching. Familiar warm air rises as the Red Tailed Hawk, slow and loose, a pinpont of vision on movement.
Land uplifts the shadow, higher.
Sun raises the cottonwood branches from the river's surface. The salmon wait inside rippling light on the reversal of current. The song says, Come or pass. Be weak or strong. Dance on light.