King Salmon
Fiercely flipping his tiller tail
The king’s snout turns to point the way
To lead kin from a briny bay
Up a rustic roiling river
Of flowing falls, rough rocks, and banks
Lined with greeting eagles and bears
Set to embrace with beaks and jaws.
Traveling on a fasting diet
The royal salmon swims upstream
Seeking passage between the hills
To reach rippling crystalline rills
And fill an ancient deep-sea dream
To find its childhood gravel bed
On which at last to rest his head.
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