Peder
Well-Known Member
Floes
One sees the ice floes every Spring
Floating slowly down the Hudson River
Moving serenely, flat-topped, grey-white,
Broken-edged, only inches above the river itself,
Endlessly renewed from as far upstream
As one can see, and reaching downstream
Through the bay to the Atlantic horizon far away,
And imagines seeing them populated with people,
And luggage of life's accumulation,
Some resting along the journey, perhaps enjoying a moment
To view the New York skyline, others very industrious,
Moving their chattel from one floe to the next, further upstream,
While the space between floes is still narrow enough to step across,
But eventually the space becomes too great
And the view downstream is of floes littered with suitcases,
And people too, stranded, floating off, into the endless Atlantic.
Peder
3-13-2014
One sees the ice floes every Spring
Floating slowly down the Hudson River
Moving serenely, flat-topped, grey-white,
Broken-edged, only inches above the river itself,
Endlessly renewed from as far upstream
As one can see, and reaching downstream
Through the bay to the Atlantic horizon far away,
And imagines seeing them populated with people,
And luggage of life's accumulation,
Some resting along the journey, perhaps enjoying a moment
To view the New York skyline, others very industrious,
Moving their chattel from one floe to the next, further upstream,
While the space between floes is still narrow enough to step across,
But eventually the space becomes too great
And the view downstream is of floes littered with suitcases,
And people too, stranded, floating off, into the endless Atlantic.
Peder
3-13-2014
Last edited:
Must have pushed the wrong button, but saying it twice can't hurt.