17 January 2026

By Philip Kuepper

Ice floes rowed
with the river’s current.
They rowed effortlessly past
where I stood.
And gulls overhead rowed
with the rowing winds,
the great oars of their wings
not missing a stroke.
Traffic rowed non-stop across
Mystic bridge, the unbroken hum
of their wheels rowing over the grating.
Then rowed a train over the railroad bridge,
its wheels trundling, trundling
over the tracks.
And the bell from the clocktower fell,
rowing, rowing the air with ringing.
And the gulls rowed in time
to the hum, the trundling, the ringing.
And time rowed all deeper,
ever deeper into the evening.

(10 January 2026)