2 August 2026

By Philip Kuepper

I.

Allegro

They shot out of the Start Line,
the rowers at their oars,
digging at the river
like bloodhounds on the scent
of their quarry, a scent
not to lose, a scent
not to get sidetracked from.
This was the moment to be
intense, this the instant
of not turning back,
of thinking of only what
lay ahead on the course.

II.

Adagio

They slipped into their groove,
slipped into it smoothly.
The river felt like cream.
It felt a dream river,
a dream in time through space.
The rowers felt they could
lift their blades out of the water,
and lay them flat
on the river’s flow.
The shells could row themselves,
so silken had become
motion propelling them.

III.

Scherzo

Suddenly, the river took hold their oars,
and felt the desire to dance them
on the water. Ripples,
frolicking into waves,
twisted round their shells,
not wildly so,
but buoyantly, a river
light on its feet.
It had become a river with feet of light,
that kept the rowers alert,
the feet of their blades working to keep up
with the overly lively river.

IV.

Finale

And then all went
fast forward. All came
together in a thrusting
thrill toward their objective,
the power of the rowers,
their muscles flexing
near bursting, caught
in the magnetic
pull of the finish just ahead.
What brilliant rowing it was,
throbs of energy pulsing through their bodies,
and at the last a blasting
like trumpets crashing
through the rowers’ collective psyche,
as they exploded
across the Finish Line.

(25-27 July 2026)