Don't Stand

Seated in the bow of the red canoe, it glides silently along beside floating cormorants. We slip beneath the overhang of lush, emerald-green leaves clinging tightly to the tree branches that tug at my hair, while worries clutch my mind. Maryland feels like uncharted territory to me - what could be hidden in the green fingers brushing through my hair? Ticks or black widow spiders? Are water snakes lurking in the murky, slow-moving current?

Struggling to control the direction, my paddling from the bow fights against the steering. I’m tired of trees that whip my face, eyes, and bare arms.

Frustration distorts the river’s calm and our paddled trail.

I steer us toward the center of the river, away from the scratchy sticks, into deeper, unencumbered water, widening the gap between the red vessel and the shrubbery that hides things that bite.

Angrily, she stands upright.

“Don’t stand up!” I scream as the canoe overturns.

Copyright © 9/15/2025 by Andrea O. Corwin

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