Scholar, Rowing

You wouldn't think he knew where he was going

the way he sits, looking backward at the oars,

leaning forward and back, the scholar rowing.

But on his range he pulls in good time, knowing

the rower's rhythm of getting from shore to shore.

Still, who'd guess he knew where he was going

or what among the sailors he was culling

in matters of the heart or state affairs?

Doesn't he look silly in his straw hat, rowing!

Putting your back into this kind of knowing

is not for everyone. If shipwreck lore

is prologue, who wants to know where he is going?

Better, like a figurehead, hair flowing,

to keep eyes forward looking, upwind of danger.

Anything's better than scholarly rowing.

No doubt the past can be a place for drowning.

But without it, where are you? What's love or war?

You wouldn't think he knew where he was going

in all that glare, alone, the scholar rowing.