Poems from Nashawannuck Pond
by David Ram

Rowing in the Harvest

Daylight sinking too soon across the cove,
I drift admiring the forested shore
where autumn colors drape the canopy.
Shades of yellows, oranges, reds and browns
complement varied evergreens woven
through a bluish backdrop. I crouch to peer
beneath at olive whorls of waterweed
and racoon’s tail. Reflected images
of hemlocks lure me to the russet slope
with scaly grays on trunks and branches bathed
in green, and I imagine the white-striped
undersides of tasty blunt-tipped needles
on which rabbit, deer and chickadees feed.
Here in my dory I savor these leaves.

To the Fisherman Who Said I Needed Luck to Stay Afloat

I hadn’t thought much of the wind today
before I pushed into the pond and found

how little, mind you, how little the wind
thought of me, contesting every oar stroke,

compelling me to yaw and sway off course,
and trying out the boat’s stability.

Although a strong and steady autumn breeze
delivered surface waves from bow to stern

and surges rolled the hull from side to side,
neither luck nor skill kept the tipping point

above the waterline as you believe.
No, simple mechanics, which forced the wind,

balanced the dory’s ample keel and held
me snug and sure on top uncommon chop.

Fall Back

Off the portside I notice it, perching
on a bare branch arched above the sunken
sycamore near the cemetery shore,
a solitary matte-black cormorant
drying off its outstretched wings in the sun.

I rest my oars and call, “Hey, bird, are you
a straggler or a scout?” No reaction.
A laggard bird or bold one who explores
locations for its flock to spend the night.

The next day walking along Water Lane
I see your silhouette still on the same
fallen tree, alone, forsaken and free.

The third day I row around the whole pond
from north to south and find you gone for good.

~

David Ram enjoys living on the west side of the Connecticut River Valley in Massachusetts. His recent poems appear in JAMA, Naugatuck River Review, Sport Literate, Star 82 Review, and elsewhere.

Featured image: Photo of a pond in autumn by Holly Wilfong, 2018.

Author’s note: These poems take place in the fall on nearby Nashawannuck Pond, which I enjoy year-round, rowing or ice skating as the pond allows. I am fascinated by the water and atmosphere as well as the plants and animals in and around the pond. The experience of transitioning from land to water feels transformative, in part, because of the pond’s constancy; but also the pond differs daily, most noticeably during seasonal change. I try to represent those experiences in accessible poems to share some of these feelings with readers.