Between Cambridge and Boston
a sculling team runs the calm rush
of the Charles, near
the edge, a white duck tests
the waters, indifferent
to a small, sun-haired boy sailing
his toy blue ship to China.
Two leave flutter down upon the river, rippling,
like two lovers’ pulses met in tender passion
as a gray old man
tugs his beard and stretches deeper
into his dreams of France.
