> Rowing
> Our oars dip
> and through the fractured light we glide
> afloat on sky and wooded shade.
> All land around this little pond
> falls on water that reacts,
> a living eye on earth's cold stone,
> unfolding its own sun and mirrored moon.
> The water drips like silver from the duck's dry wing
> as it floats upon reflected land.
> I look beyond to hard and heavy hills,
> whose folds are leonine
> beneath their veil of blue-grey haze.
> I row and row and do not stop or sink or stay aware
> of groaning oaks with branches far above,
> the gravity of air,
> of ballast of bouldered slope and sky's slate,
> the leaden clouds and rain that might
> in the next hour descend in pallid sheets,
> of words like discontented leaves
> and this body straining like an anchor in deep water.
===========================
The poem can end here.
It's a beautiful poem; wonderful imagery and symbolism.
c s shah
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