If we rise early enough on a long
summer day when the tide is high
and the wind is low, we can put in
at the mouth of the Stockport Creek.
Once we scrape over the sludge, swish
past the lily pads and float beneath
the graffitied trestle, we have
the Hudson to ourselves.
Moon still high. Damp
of fog on our forearms.
We stroke through mist dancing
on the surface of the water.
We can’t see the trees that line
the banks or the farmhouses up
ahead. We can’t see the mountains.
Or the eagles nesting in trees.
So we hug the rocky ledge
and hope we don’t come up fast
upon another boat or a buoy
tethered in the channel.
Stay out on the river a while.
Startle to the burble
of the striped bass rising or
the splash of a blue heron plunging.
Stay out on the river long enough
to feel the rumble of the tracks.
Heed the whistle of the train
heading north to Montreal.
Rest snug in the well of your kayak.
Drift. And drift some more.
Drift until your stillness within
rises to the surface.
Humana Obscura, Summer, 2024
Elise Chadwick 