The Final Drift
At first it was clearer than air-the bonding river,
The chatter on the bank, the sky above us,
The earth within us raising the old lore
Over the holy water. But even then
The end was gnawing at our hearts. By now
It had been years since anybody caught
The silver side, now even the osprey and eagles
Are mumbling to themselves, and the ocean run
Has dwindled to a trickle below the dam
Where I’ve been drifting in a faraway way,
The mind and the memory fading, the last thought
No longer than my drift boat, one of my oars.
So reel in the lines , and cry in your beer
This is the final trip, and it’s over now
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