Chilkoot

The river flashes
its jade green teeth
at humorless spruce
standing with arms crossed
like dour parents on the shore.

It spits foamy meringue peaks
over boulders and licks its tongue
across glassy flats.

On the banks,
fishermen brave ankle-twisting cobbles
slickened with moss,
stand close, but not too close,
take their morning coffee
and dream of last
night’s sockeyes, still uncaught.