the kayak stays steady
afloat
absorbing each wave in its gentle cradle
letting tension pass unacknowledged drift by
its red bow gleaming in the july sun a rainbow spray of
droplets arcing over the stern
until a swell is overwhelming
a wave is too big
it cannot be tucked away underneath the shiny plastic
a course correction is needed-
the paddle slices through the water as moses' hand
parts the red sea a
grand sweeping stroke
that creates a path a vessel to the holy land of a new england lake
here, rocks and loons are considered sacred
not by king solomon and david, but by my father and grandpa david
though the islands hold no milk or honey
i suppose that peanut butter sandwiches and wild huckleberries will do
YOU ARE READING
metamorphosis
Poetrya collection of poetry written during quarantine, the tumultuous 2020 school year, and the entering into a post-covid world. randomly updated.
