"Swing is the mythical moment in rowing. When the energy an oarsman puts into the boat seems to perfectly propel the hull forward, when the crew moves in unison and the boat slides over the water, when the output seems to generate more energy and a grueling pace seems infinitely sustainable, a boat and the rowers aboard feel "swing."

Swing is trust.  Trust that you can do your own and the boat will fly because of everyone.  The moment of swing is the moment seared into the memory; a moment to be relived in recollection."


Swing I know.

Swing is when my
living words
fall and flow so fast,
they complain, to me,

Keep up, Keep up!

We are in unison in a moment,
forever sustainable, forever lived,
and forever relived,
a myth created,
a recollection
collected and preserved,
singing:

Swing low, sweet poet,
Comin' for to carry us home;
Swing low, sweet poet,
Comin' for to carry us home.