I grip the silver metal
in my hands and push
the smooth black plastic
beneath the glassy surface.
It draws ripples,
deep and swirling motions
in the water.
It propels me forward.
The triangular bow pierces
the untouched, green-blue
and the water moves aside for me.
Again, the paddle, and
forward I move across the lake,
muscles straining at the effort.
I push and push and move faster,
then lay the paddle
across my lap and
my fingertips dip into the cool
wake and I feel it break
against my skin.
I pull my hand away and
the droplets fly as I sail forward.
My movement slows,
so I grasp the paddle
once more and
dip the end of it
into the darkness.