The ferryman says he’ll take us
through the reeds, as if he knew the way.
He shrugs when asked.
We drive through currents and canyons,
glaciers, fog, the song of a wren.
Turns out, it’s a journey
through time itself, through the heart.
We make our way. The river floods,
a wild and dangerous torrent,
then goes dry and beaches us.
At night, we tip back to watch distant lights
travel in silent intimacy to reach us.
Never alone, we are grounded and drifting.
The ferryman makes good company.
Edward A. Dougherty is on sabbatical from teaching at Corning Community College to research the creative process and to write.