Raymond A. Foss Poems

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The canoe paddle,
cuts through the surface,
the skin of the lake,
breaking the water’s surface
stirring the water
as I pull the blade,
push the canoe forward
feel the movement, the cool air
the smell of the disturbed water
the tug of weeds, of lily pad stems
the resistance of the water
against my muscle, my strain
the stillness in me on the water
the solitude of the effort
in the canoe on the water

February 10, 2008

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