ON THE WATER
the breeze
sweeps the surface,
and ripples a buoyant man’s neck.
sweeps the surface,
and ripples a buoyant man’s neck.
His hairs begin to bristle,
every current chills him gently.
The cyan clarity reflects only the sun.
every current chills him gently.
The cyan clarity reflects only the sun.
Leaves of amber and fulvous
meld cohesive piles
sprinkled with slits from autumn rains.
meld cohesive piles
sprinkled with slits from autumn rains.
Tree’s fallen branches
man’s stroking arms
limbs float over the foam
man’s stroking arms
limbs float over the foam
the gust
abrades the surface,
and stings a surprised man’s shoulders.
abrades the surface,
and stings a surprised man’s shoulders.
A clawing winter challenges,
A short tranquil autumn
A short tranquil autumn
The water churns.
...Samuel Berzok, East Brunswick in the Tufts Daily Observer
You may think this is a poem, but it's really my first grandchild. My son Sam composed this during his initial semester at Tufts University in Medford, MA when he was a member of the Tufts Crew Team. Sending one's firstborn off to college is a magical, sad, wonderful, scary thing. We are all a bit out to sea and just getting used to our new way of being a family. Sam is right. This winter has been clawing, and the tranquility of autumn ended with Sandy here in New Jersey. As in this poem, first a breeze, then a gust carries us across the churning water.
This poem recalls a simpler time, though that time was only five months ago. We think that we can control everything, but we can't. Seasons change; storms come. All we can do is keep rowing.
Remember it's still Lent. Let's reflect on what we do.
Keep reading and writing,
Maureen
