Out in the boat
I float along.
The water is rapid
and the wind is strong.
I move along.
Daytime was sun.
This night is a storm.
Daytime is a memory
of my skin feeling warmed.
Nightime find me
drenched to the bone.
The water is choppy.
I still move along.
Shook to and fro
the boat moves along.

The river a deep shade.

Beneath the surface
dwells thousands of mysteries
my imagination knows well.
Bits of seaweed
are caught on my oars.
I make choppy strides forward
hoping calm water
makes my boat soar.
Set it a sail.

The beach is a blaze.
Lights the water against sky
making it  a maze 
of dark shadows and light.

Lydia Workman