Longest day, and all to show
is this sky, overcast.

We huddle, caught shortsleeved
and goosebumped
by a squall unprepared for,
wedged between wall and water, grey-faced.

Just days ago we broke
early summer's glare with the hired oars
I swung clumsily to and fro,
rowing in circles.
It was like learning to dance
I said as we changed places, you
wanting your turn at the oars, to face the sun
and you took out your new sunglasses
to better see where we had been.

The chill passes.
As we continue along the water's edge,
I glance down and see my face,
like the pale stone you plucked
from the bottom of the boat,
turned in your hand, cast over.

copyright © the author, 2000