Kokanee salmon swimming in Mission Creek.

I see you, with your red-blistered skin, flitting and bending as you weave among the ripples. Effort etched into your belly by river rock. You are so tired, swimming upstream without end. No mercy or respite. 
This season always makes me wistful. Warm temperatures turn into an array of colour. If I were a painter, I would delight in using ochres, burnt umber, cadmium red and burnt sienna. Rich pigments that leap across the canvas to capture nature’s final, fiery flourish.
But as a writer, it is plain as day that the story of the salmon is finite, a sacrifice for the species’s tale. Fall sees many book covers close.
Honour this passage, watch the journey with awe and reverence. Savour this delicate dance, as they turn downstream one last time.

Bonus if you can see where the jumping fish splashed. <grin>