Shangri-La

Floating upon rapids
Icy clean waters with
Fish eggs and smooth pebbles
Magnified beneath,
I come upon the tributary.
Turning upstream,
I wait.

Numbing feet and shivering
Shoulders want to
Continue down the mountain
River—
But where are you? You need
To come into view
Else my journey, solitary
And peaceful
Will become lonely
As shadows stretch looking
For you, too.

And then, just as crisp
Evening breezes lift
My damp hair
You bobble up around
The bend

And I am happy again.

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