The sky is deep turquoise
the river a cerulean mirror;
between, the islands present
a tapestry of rich reds and
golds, greens and ochres.

The silence as I cut the motor
is palpable; the warmth tangible.
I paddle the last moments to shore,
propellor up, stirring liquid
throated notes out of the river.

My arrival is sacramental
I feel a reverence in the silence:
around me glows excitement
in the leaves and the soft ripples;
Yet the stillness will fill my dreams.

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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