After we cross the river the first time,
we walk a quarter mile in our bare feet,
avoiding horse manure, sharp stones, and twigs.
The path is a mere wisp of loam woven

among giant redwoods in a forest
carpeted with ferns and decorated
with forget-me-nots. We can feel damp soil
each time our heels press against the bare earth

and pine needles collect between our toes.
The way vanishes at a pebble-strewn
riverbed. We follow the rocks into
a clearing at the base of a steep hill.
The second crossing is bathed in sunlight
           and we wash our feet in the cold water.