It’s a little cold in Boston to be thinking about canoeing, but it is around this time of year that we often think about where we’re headed in life.

In life, as in canoeing, we don’t have control over the river or what it will bring us to. We only have control over how we react and what we do about it.

 

On her knees

she navigates alone

huddled in her

winter sweater

a buffer against

the early spring wind.

 

The long, grey, metal canoe

she propels like her body

right, left,

forward now,

keep control.

 

Rocks gleam on the surface

the river swerves

her heart beats quickly

as she navigates the river

swelled high with melting snows

of early spring

wonder why she’s here

challenging the current.

 

Beguiling white arrows

concealing winter wastes.

pitching in the strong current

spinning in a whirlpool

then smooth like silk.

it suddenly seemed so easy.

 

Around the curve

another torrent to be mastered

a rock, crevice,

fallen branch.

her arms are aching, heavy,

paddle deep, forward now.

 

She takes control

exulting in the challenge of the current

then veering toward the

peaceful eddy.