• Matt Smythe

TWO MORE FROM THE MOUNTAIN

Updated: Jul 10

PADDLING

Fat white-gray clouds on blue beyond the rugged pine shores, east beyond Indian and Wolf Mountains, west beyond Chaumont Swamp and Twin Mountain, north beyond Bear Mountain in the saddle of Cranberry Lake, south beyond Five Ponds and Deer Mountain, gone before we round the point at The Narrows, headlong into the wind, pulling water on both sides of the canoe.


THIS CURRENT’S COURSE

Nameless stream, a whisper among boulders and tree roots, a tired whisper after the dam holding an acre-sized beaver pond breached, let loose a river from up the mountain, straightening the meandering curves of this small seam, bounding, fanning wide into the moss, fern, rock and pines before circling back and rushing on.


From the relative depths of a dark cut beneath a knot of exposed birch roots, an eager brook trout attacks my fly. Bright gem catching a glint of sunlight in this almost accidental universe. Large in the large scheme of things.


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FIVE WEIGHT

Not here. You fuckers cannot follow me here. His dad looked over his shoulder from the tailgate at Charlie, standing in the tall grass looking over the river, hands tucked into the top of his waders,

WATCHING THE SUNRISE OVER SEDONA

I closed my eyes for one inhale and exhale stood waiting and small sage on the wind reminding me that I am west again so many stars in pre-dawn purple a teeming riot above rock sky sage red-

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© 2017 By Matt Smythe