Walks With Salmon

She stands upon the shoreline, eyes peeled through breaking sea.
Windswept dunes and tide line, seaweed, pebbles and just thee.

Far out beyond the horizon, stirring in the cobalt deep.
There's a flicker of a tail fin, stretching sinew from slumbering heap.

She's lithe and sleek, scales glistening, in shafts of moonlight shone.
Answering an ancient calling, of a journey just begun.

Through reef, along current, of a destination she is sure.
A birthplace only known to her, individual and just pure.

Inside the outstretched peninsula, a ripple of hope is barely seen.
A swell of expectant bodies, ready, excited, very keen.

Co-joined they are at estuary, between sand bar and the beach.
Foot and gill a stride apart, just out of each others reach. 

A pace is taken forward, not one but three or four.
Saline giving way to water, washing open homeward door.

A yard or two along the riverbank, flat stone replaced by rock.
There's a swishing and a splashing, a tick of body clock.

Upstream there is momentum, the walk becomes a run.
Pulses start a racing, breeding time has come.

The salmon start a leaping, across weir and open brook.
From eyes there is a seeping, of a longing for a look.

A strong heart is so needed, for such a herculean jump.
Around whirlpool and up waterfall, all faith in upward pump.

At last upon the spawning ground, ones life can come to rest.
A new generation in the birthing, all given of their best. 

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020

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The Call To Adventure

Shamanic Practice