August Canoe Poem by Austyn O'Dwyer

In August I found an old canoe
Well it wasn't a canoe it was a lightning-struck trunk
Of some wonderful oak
That sailed forever in a sea of red ferns.
That was my vessel one summer
I had provisions and I was a far way off from the house
I had an oar that looked like a leafy stalk of some plant
And a wheel like a petrified vine that made my palms itch when I had to circumvent some whirlpool
Or steer clear of some forest burg of moss
And it was just me and my first mate, James.
Whose head resembled a crumbling mushroom and didn't talk much
Unless to warn me about the sunset
Then, his voice was windy and tasted like soil.
I left him when the first chill of winter arrived,
and I would never forgive myself.