East Region

To paddle or not to paddle?

That is the question, pondered

as he reaches a fork in the stream.

Paddle -

for inevitably the boat, as in life,

will be pushed and pulled along,

moved,

regardless of intent or preparation.

Better to choose.

The choice not to paddle might've led directly into

a whirlpool,

a struggle against time,

that tricky mistress

whose belly is never full.

Rings float out into oblivion

in every direction,

mapping yesterdays,

reverberations

carved into the architecture

of the landscape.

It gets dicey for a while

as the paddles don't seem enough

in a match against a storm.

He throws his head back and yells in frustration

as it begins to rain.

That sudden melody

disrupts his senses

and ripples on ripples

form a new ring

and new memories.

Firm grasp on the present,

he laughs, laying back in the boat

letting the rain wash over him.

It isn't wanting

like hunger,

but necessary

like breathing

to ride the current.