Depleted spirits recharge
during an afternoon walk
among white sage,
pliant willows,
along lazy kinks of flowing river.

I explore sand bars, silted snags,
remember fishing here with my father.
During autumn, battered salmon swam upstream,
gills heaving when lifted off hooks,
their journey to old spawning grounds, interrupted.

Dad is gone; mom, terminally ill, will soon join him.
I return to childhood’s compromised sanctuary,
assaulted by grief and anger,
wash away emotional pain
soothed by restorative water.

By Jennifer Lagier

sunlight through dark branches

The author, Jennifer LagierJennifer Lagier has published ten books and in literary magazines. She taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate monthly Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium Second Sunday readings. Forthcoming books: Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle). Click here to visit her website. Photo by the author.

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