Here I Do Err

Here I Do Err

The skies opened for business preceding the
baritone winds twisting up the gorge.
Pelting drops the day after Easter,
a moment in the lifespan of the
average American man.

(I do not mean to use “man” as a generic
placeholder for humans of both sexes, but refer
specifically to men of a certain demographic.)

Closing in on noon the customers roamed
beneath the “open for business” sign splashed
above the sidewalks, boat ramps and
hearty men casting for a steelhead or two.

(Here I do err, knowing full well that my own
daughter cast her line in the Elochoman between
raindrops just yesterday. Perhaps
“men and women” would not interrupt the flow
as much as I thought.)

Humans, a handful, ate brown bag lunches
under the overhang of back porches
with a full Columbia view.