The View from Shore
Not too far out, two paddlers carved their bit
of bay into a pliant stream that held
the solitary kayak they propelled
in perfect synchrony. Their intimate
accord was clear: they’d worked out how to fit
their bodies in the narrow space and meld
their muscled strokes. But my next glance dispelled
illusion; this romance was counterfeit.
What I saw was not one kayak, but two,
joined only by a trick of light and tide
for seconds, not a lifetime. As they drew
apart, each craft distinct, I modified
my story. They were strangers; one breeze blew
them close, the next one parted them and sighed.
by Jean L. Kreiling
Editor’s Note: The alliteration in line one of this sonnet immediately captured my attention, and happily the rest of the poem does not disappoint: sonics, meter, and metaphor draw the reader in before letting go in the last line.