River Without End

Cut from the trunk of a tree

Hollowed with a rock

A canoe floats idly down the river

Gliding through clear waters 

Beneath the canoe is a sea of mint green weeds

Jutting up to reach the stern, and pull it down

Into the depths, that get darker as one sinks

Weeping willows hang overhead

A leaf from one twists and turns in the wind

It spins down to rest on the seat of the canoe

Then in one gust, blows into air again

Finding its way to lay atop the water's surface

The canoe plows through the leaf, pushing it below

It sinks and becomes invisible

It's empty, this boat

Filled with space for passengers

But no sound is heard, not even that of a frog

No people in sight, where have they gone?

If one were to look, they wouldn't even see

A bird, or a deer

This land is empty, same to the canoe

Reviews

[J.Sinclair (Morrow)]

Haunting. Is same to the canoe suppose to be same for the canoe? This is a great poem. I love all the details and the quiet still slow mood it evokes.

[poet2angels (lynda)]

Wonderful nature poem with great imagery
beautifully done!

Lynda