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Fierce and Fine and Free
Canoe Poems for Spring
Chasing Dreams in May
We have chased ourselves
along
Waters and Fridays
Pursuing dreams where
There were dreams, and the wind
Where there were not
We are not new, but we have grown smiles
Like the trees do leaves.
And we canoe blue lakes and find green fish
Till evening scares us home.
What is us, we owe ourselves;
The rest will chase lakes and rivers
And Fridays and winds, and, in late May,
Cagey green pike
Canoe-Scrubbing in the Rain
For all the Aprils that ever
were
I wrote this poem
For all the men who ever scrubbed canoes
In the rain, in April
I write this poem
No decorum is necessary;
I have chameleoned
All the white, cold winter
Fooling only those
Who don’t know me
In the soggy, soggy backyard
In the afternoon rain
I pivot the canoe
Over April
And now it’s downstream
All the way to autumn
Fierce and fine and free
There are those who are most
alive
Around some river bend
In spring the young ones call my name
But I am gone again
Ghosts and dreams and desperate schemes
Considered – and forgot
Cornered in the alley, yes
But never, ever caught
I’ve done my time at my desk
Pretending to be me
I am in truth on river bends
Fierce and fine and free
A flash of paddle on the lake
A dancer on the creeks
In May the old men call my name
But only distance speaks
Bubbles in the Flotsam of Time
Ah, love, we are bubbles
In the flotsam of time
Part of some river
Part of this rhyme
All promises now void
All projects on hold
So many rivers
Before we grow old
The March wind is singing
Some wild hero’s song
The canoe is ready
The evenings grow long
Ah, love, we’re a couplet
In the epic of time
Let us follow our rivers
To the end of our rhyme
All dreams and all rivers
To the end of our rhyme
Down the Creek in a Red Canoe
All
the hills of April stream
With warming water from winter’s dream
All the hills and gullies run
Away from here, one by one
My life seems full of clock and plan
That rule the time and lose the man
But now my heart has caught the breeze
In April skies, in April trees
Down the creek in a red canoe
Scraping over a fence or two
Paddle parrying floating ice
Ignoring timid friends’ advice
The skies may fill with April rain
But I return to life again
Happy now, for it seems
I’ve not forgotten all my dreams
18 poems. 9 little illustrations.
For canoers who are making paddling motions at their desks.
Text file available free. Email me at everson@golden.net.