Canoeing on Saturday

I want to wear this day
raindrop rings on pale olive water
circle upon circle
spreading, joining, fading

I want to wear
fuzzy, waddling, gold-brown goslings
silver trout breaking the surface
yellow warbler – an egg yolk in flight
slicked umber otter swimming
within an oar’s-length

“Three yards of this fabric, please.”
the clerk grasps the bolt by its clouds
water splashes against her fingers
ducks scatter before her scissors
geese honk in the crisp paper bag

I spread the lake on a table in a sunny room
pin brown tissue pattern to shoreline
run shears down grassy sleeves
roll tracing wheel along darts that slip 
between willows and snags
match front side to front, set a ⅝” seam
I sew a sheath of rain

At the party, the hostess takes my hand
“That dress is beautiful,” she says
“Oh this?” I smile   
“I’ll have it forever.”

Originally published in the anthology “Blood, Water, Wind, and Stone,” edited by Lori Howe, Sastrugi Press, 2016.