Canoeing Poem by Richard Bunch

The way she breathes with each deep stroke that feeds
Eddies and swirls, her paddle arches wide
As though to turn. But the currents that breed
The most difficulty are those well-tried,
Need deeper strokes. They're biases that shift
Their histories along the waterline
With scars. She finds it hard now not to drift,
To keep stroking in despair's wake, to find
Cathedrals in waves, genius in turning
Back to where she's come from, sometimes has to
Steer toward the shore, avoid the current's
Mainstream whose sunset cargoes can slice through
Some that are unsung. She knows too how pools
With each stroke change, how currents vie like schools.