(for Deborah Meltvedt)

On our morning walk along the river
path, Deb and I stop several times
to watch the progress of a…

Is that a sea lion? In the American River?!

…flopping acrobatically, swimming
fast, popping up, then diving into
concentric circles of expanding
water, a long way from home.

Some of us are like that—
natural explorers setting out
into uncharted waters, eager to
see what can be seen, and when
we spot this adventurer’s
dog-like head zigging and zagging
downstream, we landlubbers
cheer.

“They follow the fish,” Deb says,
of the lithe, ear-flapped pinniped
likely hot on the trail of salmon
making their way back upstream
after their long journey to the sea.

This splashing gymnast is not
the only one of his kind, adds Deb,
who knows this path well.
“Sometimes we see two of them.”
The big guy and his mate are
no strangers to fresh water,
have likely flippered their way
up a river or two before.

But to us, it’s like watching a
visitor explore new territory:
We wonder what he sees under
the surface, imagine a murky
underwater world with waving
grasses and swimming critters.

We stand and look and watch
for him until his slick head
disappears, silently wish him
safe passage, happy hunting,
bon voyage.