The bow of the canoe is laden
with water
Autumn rain having fallen the
night before.
I bail four or five gallons
out
From the slanting hull
That points toward the wind
ruffled lake.
On the distant shore, the
trees are on fire.
I shove off and drift a moment,
Taking in the gentle rock of
the broad beam
On wavelets
Where the light glitter
dances across the water.
Water so shallow I push off
the bottom,
Gondolier on a big pond,
Sand and muck and weeds,
Till I reach the deeper
water,
Deep like prayer at midnight,
Dark and still.
Left side, left side
Right side, right side
Metronomic, the paddle blade
Thrusts aside the water
Trailing diamonds off its
tip,
Gentle arpeggios of droplets
Scattering ripples in my
wake.
The swans,
Cob, pen and cygnet
Trail me for a few moments
And then turn tail toward the
west
And home or to find
sustenance
In pondweed, stonewort, wigeon grass,
Who can say.
I stroke for the far shore,
Taking in the fading
cattails,
The blazing maples,
And blink at the dazzle on
the water
At the southern shore shallow
water
And the sandy bottom emerges
again
Sandhill cranes standing
still
And some
With a sudden thrust of broad
wings
Leap to the air
Others
Eye me with some caution or
curiosity
Who can say
And stalk away on stilts
through the shallows
Once only a pair graced this
little lake
But after five rounds of the
sun
Now a good four dozen
Bring in the morning with clattering
calls across flat water
Maybe naming the clouds or
the younglings
Or the reeds and cattails
Who can say.
Turning back, eventually
When my arms began to burn,
The breeze comes up and
The shallow aluminum hull
Thrums like a bowed string
and
Swings ninety
Before I can compensate.
the wind takes the left side
And I the right, picking a
point on shore
And dipping into the water
When the bow swings starboard
It’s harder than it sounds,
Given no keel,
This beamy boat is slave to
any zephyr.
Back in shallow water
I shove hard till the bow
Noses onto the grass
And I drag it up from the
shore
Until another time.
