I will paddle up the meandering Sudbury.
I will float down the beautiful Assabet.
I will search out the sources of my fantasies.
I will hunt the headwaters of my dreams.
I will run the rapids of my imagination.
I will see things amazing to a boy
from New York,
where lifetimes could
pass without a single
standing motionless on Mosholu
where Harrier Hawks cast no shadows on
the Grand Concourse. These rivers
carry me on a gentle current
of fear, eyes wide, entranced,
to the surprise
the bend. I am afloat.
I drift. I watch in silence.
August 31, 2001