capture and release

She summer drifted around the bend of the narrow river in a waterlogged rowboat at white cloud speed, ponderous as a slow winter sleigh ride, peered over starboard as she hoisted the brown paper sack of old love letters secured with black shoestring, pausing briefly to admire her reflection donning a floppy lake hat, smiling, then shoving it over the side, following its tumbling descent weighted by an unforgiving heart.
She sprawled back, laughing for no one to hear except a startled doe hidden amongst the trees, the toes of her right foot over the side creating cold foamy ripples against the current. Her eyelids became heavy and she slept, a wind gust overturning her hat and rippling her ginger hair. In the buoyant mist ahead she dreamed of her new lover. He could not spell her name, but oh could he kiss, and he loved to fish.

River,
Marina Moevs, 2005