Rock Hopping

Rock Hopping by Max Quayle

I rise early and consider all the day before me --Bang, I'm on my way... Pedaling, hustling – chasing the wind I slow, I am here, my place I dole out my time, like currency:

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twenty minute tree climb, five minute high bough rest that's when I hear her... likeathousandwavesallcrashing At once.

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Dropping down to solid ground, I eye her: She winds along in a restless way But takes a care to bow and sway, and curl about the rocks out cropping Flowing clean and never stopping.

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I leap, moments flashing in the air Will I make it? is it slick? Thump. I land, I stand... I lunge out quick, Another rock, another perch

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I wend my way, and pass the day... Hoprocking, rockhopping whilst the stream flows, endless like my youth.

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