Can You?

I notice a human form
a woman, sitting serenely,
alone and glorious,
basking in the river basin
perched on a grand boulder.

Her gaze is forward
looking up and out.
Around her, an almost
visible aura of calm.

So striking, to me,
that I lift my camera
to capture the essence of
her oneness with nature.

Next, I see a rustling
at my right periphery,
at water's edge.
More humans;
they noisily summon her.
Her family, I take it.

She stirs, startled.
She tilts her head
towards the commotion.

Scrambling to her feet,
she's now standing
on a jutting rock
in the middle of a river
between two islands.

Her back, tall and straight,
yet her chest rises and falls
deeply, with emphasis.

As a mom, I already know.
This is preparation.
She's gathering
her Outdoor Voice.

Now she turns to them,
the ones calling out to her.
She returns words their way,
albeit lost to me in the wind.

Her stance is universal, though.
As is what she's surely shouted
over the roar of white waters
back to her crew:

"Can you just gimme a minute?!"