Salmon Hallelujah

Upstream.
We could try it,
pretend we're salmon
going back to the place of
our birth, make love
(in human terms)
and die.

Nah, I'd rather live for awhile
longer
still
meditating on the sand mandala
of life
before an unseen hand
sweeps it all away as if nothing
ever happened, as if the way
night falls can be forgotten
and the moon in her drunkenness,
falls from perpetual grace.