Like a photo of the ancient life. Virgin green vegetation girdles the limpid river. Sun shines through the drizzle. They’re voyaging, not to attend the wedding of foxes. He rows with his eyes clung to a shoal of fish. His baby sleeps in the cradle of her hands. Propeller motion of his arms is august. This forest family emits ebullient vibes. They float, self-reliant in simplicity, under the rain clouds and rainbows, far away from the ostentatious pretensions and sophisticated tensions. First published in issue #27 of The Literary Hatchet.