10 March 2024

By Philip Kuepper

I have worked my way back
through fifty-three years,
to 1971 Boston, and the Charles,
where I sat on the Embankment
and watched rowers
maneuver their boats
in a current with a mind of its own,
a mind, part Puritan,
part revolutionary, a mind,
part farmer, part merchant, part artisan,
a river with a mind like a horse at full gallop.
A river’s mind is never not thinking,
racing with thoughts, in fact, often,
thoughts that must be lassoed,
and broken, to be mounted
and ridden, to be put into practice.
Otherwise, a herd-like flood,
running off in every direction.
Rowers mount and ride
rivers at full gallop,
oars, reins.
And in the rowing itself,
a liberty is felt taking hold,
the liberty of going
from star to finish,
the liberty of simply being
able to row, and able to row
the elemental.

(3 March 2024)