The Red Canoe, Winslow Homer (1889)

Listening

The sun made its entry on this spring day
Could hear the winged choir in the brackish marsh
No idea what they’re sending my way
For sure it wasn’t the weather being harsh

Mist floated off the refreshing mirror
Eye high to me sitting in the canoe
Fish had an appointment with this angler
Want to introduce my pan to a few

Mist is now history, not a nibble
Not a concern, canned tuna on the shelf
Idleness a chance my future to mull
Realizing world is more than myself

Nice to get away from problems that weigh
Listen what the inner self has to say