The Spectre Rower

The Spectre Rower

Winter comes early, here,
this far north.
And the first day the air
is cracked clear, cold,
I hear the creaking
of the spectre rower’s oars
scrape the icy river oe’r and oe’r,
the spectre rower bound
to row oe’r and oe’r.

Winter comes early, here,
in all its cold majesty,
sweeping white the world
with its luxuriant ermine train.
And it is then each morning
not long after dawn
I hear the creaking
of the spectre rower’s oars
scrape the icy river oe’r and oe’r.

Gulls will appear, to haunt the air.
They fly in time to the rowing oe’r and oe’r.
They cry back to the creaking
of the oars they hear
‘twere though the spectre rower a gull
scraping the icy river oe’r and oe’r
in the cold majesty of winter,
the spectre rower bound
to row oe’r and oe’r.

Philip Kuepper
(25 December 2013)