Grasse River

Leaves crunch underfoot as Peter and I walk across campus. Entering the wooded path just south of town, flecks of light surprise the damp ground and startle the dark canoe shack, our destination. With empty pockets (no cash, no bothersome phone) we push off into the river. Burnt maples and yellow birches hug the way, dropping leaves onto the still surface of the water.

Woodpecker, muskrat. They see us too, and they suspend activity to watch us glide by.

Water-logged leaves find their way to the easy current in the middle of the river. Pulled like sinew, they move together. Are they migrating, looking for a winter home like the five Canada Geese honking above us? I think their intentions are more like ours. Enjoying one last ride in the Grasse, absorbing the sun, hoarding the warmth of autumn.