Open Water

we back stern-forward into open water,
quiet in the morning chill

mornings are like this—
fog low over the water and the crunch
of gravel under our sneakers as we walk toward the docks,
lolling with sleep, quiet in the morning chill

stern-forward into open water
and the oars click, echoes as we push
away from the dock
still and cool as glass, silver reflecting
fog and the shell of our Vespoli
quiet in the morning chill.

we row through the fog
and under the railroad bridge into open water
and bells are chiming from the harbor buoys,
red and green lights, quiet in the morning chill

the sun comes up on open water
blue sky cut clean through gray fog,
shadows on glass,
quiet in the morning chill.