Water still clings to his legs and chin,
darkening the soft lines of youth,
as he steps from the river into the light.
The willows close around him,
leaves brushing his flanks like quiet hands.
Nearby, his sibling lingers,
half wet, half dry,
a careful balance between play and shelter,
melting into shadow and stem.
They learn the world in fragments:
cold water, moving leaves,
the pause between steps.
Their mother stands watch,
a steady presence at the edge of motion.
Her gaze holds them both,
even when they slip briefly from sight.
Nothing here is hurried.
Nothing is wasted.
In this small, hidden place,
the river gives way to willows,
and the young learn to belong,
to water, to cover,
to the quiet protection of being seen.
Image captured in Grand Teton National Park
Summer, 2023
Canon EOS R5 Mirrorless Camera
Canon EF 400mm f/2.8L IS II USM Lens
