National Poetry Day: A Sea To Row By

Sea to Row byThe reeds grow lovely
in the November dusk.
They whisper, whisper
the last of the day,
a rushing whisper
along the beach,
hurrying, hurrying
the terns to flight.

The rower stands watching
the white-capped sea,
the waves cutting, cutting
like a painter’s knife his canvas,
colors a mix of froth and slate.
And dusk.  How dusk
does whisper away the day.

Like a tall, strong, slender
reed the rower stands,
watching, watching
the ever agitated sea,
the hovering dusk connecting
night to day, the beauty
of the day fading out over the sea.

The rower stands thinking,
thinking on the morrow how dawn
will break lovely across
the creating horizon,
cresting with light, whipped
delicate egg white, diaphanous,
the veiled air pulled back
to reveal a sea of such calm
one could walk out on,
a sea, a sea to row by.

Philip Kuepper
(21 November 2014)

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