7 October 2019 

By Grant Sommers

Oars crack, collide into cranky lake
contemplating ice, reluctantly gives up
her wake – she is

Also unpleased to linger in darkness,
huddles as we pick and glide on her back on
silent rails we build a head, steam her waters,
achieve mechanical symmetry – what
machines pretend to be, before wear

Bowlights flicker, signals to their maker
and at Sunnyside I see you, across the bay
a golden fury, a light-roar rising in the East

We too are elemental; pseudo-aquatics
We are water, tendon, and muscle
We breathe and fire universal oxygens
We are distillates of sweat, hope, and inspiration
We are rowers

But who turns black water blue, but you?
And now you are here, so everything is here
as we turn and join the world to greet you

Even as fall is upon us – we row
ever stronger towards the light
and then the half-light,
the quarter-light, the body swing
calloused hands only, touching
eyes closed,   exhale
let it run…

And watch the season fold into itself.