'Stones into water,'
Is what the boy thought,
When he was still too young
To hold an oar,
Stones into water
As he walked the stone-walled
Lanes with his father.
He was all of five.
The bay that edged the field
Was what the boy would scan
Where rowers oared their shells,
Practicing to compete.
The country lanes were what
The boy rowed in his mind,
Stonewalls dissolving either side of him
Into the field that dissolved into the bay,
His fantasy bay
He rowed
When he was still to young
To hold an oar.
Philip Kuepper
(June 2012)
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