Secret Swift Rivers
September 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
As someone who prefers dry land to anything with a bow, a stern, or a bulkhead, when I think of seagoing vessels I like to remember the small decaying boats I’ve seen in the forest, with plants growing out of crevices between weathered boards, and roots anchoring the boards securely to the earth.
Still, boats were meant to go somewhere:
Nuns respectfully put nuts along a well-worn path.
After seven hours of singing and organ music,
Canoes overgrown with weeds rose straight up on secret swift rivers,
Miraculous vessels loaded with earth from the forest floor.