What would Virginia do? (An overdue ode to the Cascade River in Spring)

sepia swirls

over mocking white foam

conifers dance and

bubbles beckon

what would Virginia do?

would she wade into your

cold and mocking waters?

or would she look in her pockets

and find a shining agate from the shore

that captures her attention

to stave off her demise

for another day?

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