Still Life with Canoe – a poem by Charles Lewis

Still Life with Canoe

I edged the canoe
along a quiet margin of the river
where the current slowed
almost to a standstill.

Immersed in the bright summer air,
breathing felt light,
body safe,
buoyed in the sturdy shell of the hull.

From a secret spot
in a steadfast tree on the wild bank,
a single chirp of unfinished birdsong
plucked the stillness.

My paddle laid across the gunwales
dripping slow glassy drops
into the clear shallows.
Water bugs moved like Jesus walking on the water.

There were no extravagant miracles that day.
Just the day itself,
alive and reckless 
with peace.

Charles Lewis writes poetry as a way of knowing and unknowing, as prayer and meditation, to share language and feeling, for fun, and because it’s necessary.