Open Water

Sliding by the creek edge,
watching the ripples amplify.
Where the bow goes I don’t know,
I aim it aimlessly,

For there is no path here,
Just capricious directions,
beckon to the will of the wind
and a wandering mind.

I like it that way.
Making a new path beneath dark water,
watching the heron alight
across the creek,
jealous branches straining to kiss water.

Farther down, around the bend
into the gaping mouth of the bay
The seagulls
investigate the surface
with intense curiosity,
gliding for a hapless minnow
hoping to devour.

I push the paddle past the water,
the thud on the gunwale
comforts me.

Drops of water drip
carelessly onto my knees,
off the paddles,
sparkling, cascading off my knees
against the backlight
of a lazy setting sun behind me.

The scent of burning wood
betrays the distant smoke behind the trees
way before the visual wafting grey appears
over a now distancing shoreline

I am in wonder
For all this ample richness that
is the open water,
this free path to many paths
I am availed,
leaving only ripples and a wake behind,
evanescing “footprints”.

And at day’s end
I fill my boat with joy
and silence,
Thankful for paths yet to come.




-Ricardo Jose Gonzalez-Rothi

An academic physician and writer, Ricardo has had his prose and poetry featured in the U.S. and in the U.K., in Acentos Review, The Bellingham Review and others. Books: memoir “The Mango Chronicle” and "Poesias de Mami", an illustrated  bilingual children’s poetry.  He came to the U.S.as a  Cuban refugee.    gonzalezrothiauthor.com