The Fall Poem by Don Fredette

In a tiny wooden boat she pushed off
alone from the dockings ties and set herself adrift
out into the cool waters and the darkness.
And the stars overhead cast their gaze
back at themselves from the skin of that deep autumn lake.

She carried with her in that small craft
just one oar – the other, she left in my hands as I stood
there by the docks edge, then sat with it.
The oar in my lap, my feet dangling,
eyes straining as her figure drifted from my sight
like mist over the memory of a deep silent dream.

The displacement of water around her
and the shallow ribbed bough was all but unnoticeable.
But the weight of half a lifetime was with her.

And the past and the present and the future
and generations to come she carried in tow
till it seemed the very galaxy and stars and planets
and space and time bowed in on her
from the sheer weight of such combined things.

The dock creaked and moaned my existence,
but I waited, hoping the ceaseless trembling fire of dawn
and the changing October world would bring her back to me;
that the mornings amber rays and my outstretched paddle
and her reaching hand would meet; that I would pull her back
and secure the ropes and help her place her footing if she let me.