3 November 2016

Across the mercurial
river I saw
a women’s four row north,
a practice row,
followed by their coach’s boat,
coach acting as cox
through a megaphone.

Like an arrow tore the shell
through dusk,
past trees, agrieved,
autumn had taken
their Joseph’s coats of leaves,
and made shroud of them
spread upon the ground.

Like an arrow tore the shell,
north, silently,
the four women one
sleek stroking,
the mercurial river rowing with them,
rowing to autumn
through dusk falling,
falling.

Philip Kuepper
(27 October (2016)