light strewn like stars
on the afternoon water
a mirror of mountains
a song of trains
pre-recorded
for the memory
of a grandfather’s dream
October clouds
spilled ink across the sky
we paint this day
with diesel, with aches
with pains -- we
who winterize the boat
who have watched her
in blizzards and floods
know more of the groans
the symphony of wind
that envelopes we know
more than spreadsheets
describe we know
the weight of the light
strewn like stars
we know
they are not strewn
for you
crisp morning air, a quick pipe, quickly cooling coffee
try to ignore the news of the melting, congealing world
find solace in the songs echoed off metal hulls
the throat songs of lines stretched to the rhythm of river currents
the best part of the morning report is the weather forecast,
giving us some hope in the slowing that happens
after first frost falls
hot hotel coffee and pipe outside on a crisp morning
keeping company with straw and stars and stripe kitsch
the colors of October: a canvas stretching
along the river that frames these days
telling myself it’s a day off, I can breathe a little, drink coffee
going to see old friends soon and buy a few supplies
every waking is a counting and a reckoning of things needed
every waking is a remembering and planning
every waking is a new realization, a different surprise
that I am closer to the currents of things
than the day before
