Richard Fenwick ~ Poet
She dips an oar from an ash canoe
into the lake’s dark surface,
pulls herself toward its center
to push away the past, or
future, or even tonight’s moon.
A fish leaps, concentric circles,
two small branches drift to shore
as her oar cuts deep into the skin
of water, the lake’s thin flesh.
Resting it against her thighs,
she glides until each ripple fades,
and wonders if she should return
to their small white dock
or complete the lonely journey
to the cottage on the other side.
This poem reflects a poignant peek at a quiet moment, the personal reflection of the subject. The lines speak of a nameless woman caught between the simple action of release, and a planned destination. Again, Richard’s poetic lines conform to the Tetrameter meter of open verse. A meter I particularly find appealing. This poem is, as the others, speaks directly to the reader in easy to understand phrases, without need for interpretation or confusion to the meaning. This is Richard’s gift as a poet.