The sky is painted a pale orange and blue
I'm just out there thinking of you
No way, no how to ever break through
But with a paddle in hand you know that's untrue
A wannigan, a duffle, a heavy deluth
An impenetrable vessel, a wood canvas canoe
Unexplored nature, a spirit renewed
All with friends, an unstoppable crew
No need to run, no need to prove
Rise with the sun, incredible views
There's always a portage, skeg on the boots
But who can stop walking our unfenced zoo
We do what we do, there to feel, be, and move

I wonder why you want to row
When there are just so many terms to know
Before you get in the boat and place an oar in the water,
Before you take a single stroke don’t think you ought to
Remind yourself of what they are, these parts and pieces,
Actions and orders that rowers use (but poets don’t)
So forgive me if I leave some out.
 
Let’s take a look at the boat (or rather the shell):
The seat you sit on,
​slides, backstop, shoes and riggers.
 
The skeg that stabilizes the shell,
​shoulder, saxboard, and pogies.
The top-nut that keeps the rowlock in place,
​swivel, stretcher and rollers.
 
Now for the oar (or rather the scull):
There’s the Spoon blade, the Macon blade,
​Smoothie or Tulip.
 
Ready (or not) for the stroke you take ?
An Airstroke (in the air) ,
​backsplash, backwater, or body stroke,
 
Go on bury the blade, check the cover,
​ but don’t catch a crab!
Mind out for the drunken spider,
​watch the feather and the finish,
 
Inside hand, outside hand,
​hands away, miss the water,
Leg back, lie back,
​pause the paddling, watch the pitch,
 
Release and recover,
​don’t shoot your slide,
Swing the stroke rate,
​and space those puddles.
 
Careful there’s no skying,
​and absolutely no washing out.
 
Ready for a repecharge?
Or perhaps you’d prefer an egg-beater?
Ask the *** to call a flutter.
 
Easy oars
​Hold her hard
Ship oars
​One foot up & out
Waist, ready, up
​Shoulders, ready, up
​Way enough!

Each morning on the docks I'd rise
At dawn 'round six-fifteen
Throw on some clothes and splash my face
And brush my teeth real clean

With aching bones I'd bend and stretch
My muscles stiff and sore
From nailing planks and pounding seams
I'd caulked the day before

The bicycle was rusty
Locked inside the parking lot
And as I rode to work I'd think
Of tools I had forgot

A putty knife for scraping
Sharpened chisel or the plane?
But weariness prevented me
From turning 'round again

The auger, level, or the saw
In tool bag they would be
Unless I'd loaned them to a friend
In which case I would see

Him in the yard that morning
Waiting for me by the store
Where we would get some coffee
Just like me all stiff and sore

With cream and sugar in our cups
We'd plan the day ahead
Mull things over, chew the fat
Until our brains went dead

'Did you bring two part epoxy? '
'There's a leak around the skeg'.
But he was tired and in reply
He said, 'I thought you did'

Then we would cross the boat yard
Just like many times before
With the smell of all the hardwoods
From the sawdust on the floor

And once it struck our nostrils
We began to come alive
There was one that smelled like chocolate,
One like honey from the hive

She was over in a corner
Standing up on twenty jacks
Her hull was made of Douglas fir
Her keel was painted black

Her insides were mahogany
Her decks were grayish blue
And it had been our task at hand
To making her brand new

It'd taken twenty months or so
Perhaps a little more
But at this point we didn't care
And who was keeping score?

And on the day we launched her
With a bottle of pink Dom
We asked the God's to keep her safe
While we kept working on


Written by Sara Fielder © Dec 2011