Concord, Late May, 1841
By the time
May 31, 2001
the sun comes up
he's been on the river
for an hour,
the water smooth and black,
pensive as any
parlor looking glass.
His boat drifts silent
beneath the trees
where pockets of birdsong
wait to fall and white mist rises
soft as morning prayers.
He trails a finger
in the water;
he studies the sky.
Copyright © Amy Belding Brown