summerlove

        Otter Creek gathered stars and tucked them into her gentle creel. She had been doing this each night since before the bison roamed her land. Father Lake loved his daughter, and he gave her many fine trout. The man called Mister Zig-Zag also loved her, and he spent many hours seeking her fine trout.
        It was July and the Blood Moon had risen full of treetops.
        Mister Zig-Zag fished like Huckleberry Finn. He had let out a boyant line and wound it around his big toe and then set his reel. He reclined upon the grassy bank and drank the moon like Li Po.
        His dub lifted his thoughts with a fragrance.
        "Oh me oh my."
        Nirvana.


                                                                                         *


        Cherry Blossom tread through the forest in her moccasins of dearskin and beads. Stepping upon nary twig nor leaf. Eyebright and silent. It was a game she played with her man.
        She wore a string bikini and a cloak of cotton gossamer. White with Russian embroidery from Old Sitka.
        After a while she picked up his scent.
        In her deerskin purse she carried a jar of honey. Imported tupelo, her favorite for lovemaking.
        "Ziggy, Hon," she said. "You don't catch trout that way."
        "I know."