A recent assignment in my creative writing class called on students to do two things. First, we were to pick a “moment in time” with one of our parents and do an extended list of details describing or referring to that moment. Recalling the canoe trips I took with my dad many years ago, I came up with the following list that could have applied to almost any of those trips.

CANOEING WITH DAD

– Our olive green aluminum canoe with its uncomfortable seats

– Shiny wooden paddles, somewhat frayed at their tips

– Bright orange life jackets we wore

– Getting splashed by some of dad’s friends who were in another canoe

– The slimy wet feeling on my skin after getting splashed

– Different insects that we saw, especially dragonflies and water bugs

– Whirlpools created as we pulled the canoe forward with our paddles

– Bird calls that we heard: chirps, peeps, caws, and screeches

– The feel of sweat trickling off my face and down my neck

– The rushing, chattering sound of rapids and waterfalls

– Jolts from hitting the canoe against rocks or logs

– The ache in muscles after several hours of paddling

– Sticks, leaves, flower petals, paper cups, and other things that would float by

The second part of the assignment required us to draw on some of these details and write a poem as if we were “entering the bubble” of that moment in time. The poem I wrote in response to this part of the assignment is titled “Dip the Paddle.”

DIP THE PADDLE

Dip the paddle, pull it back

Water bugs slide away

As our olive green vessel

takes off on this magical day

I hold the bow and gird myself

While Dad commands the stern

Steering a canoe, after all, is

Something I’ve yet to learn.

Dip the paddle, pull it back

I keep my eyes ahead

Something’s there in the water

Is it alive or is it dead?

A brown stick floats by our boat

And I do a double take

I was really almost certain

That stick was a poisonous snake.

Dip the paddle, pull it back

We listen to nature’s call

The cry of crows flying above

And the rush of a waterfall

The glowing sun makes us glad

for shade along the shore

A gentle breeze across my face

Makes me wish for more.

Dip the paddle, pull it back

There’re rapids closing in

The angry voices of the rocks

Create a terrible din

We push, shove, and do our best

To keep our boat upright

There is no time to get some rest

No time to get uptight.

Dip the paddle, pull it back

We glide from river to lake

The strokes and bumps multiply

Making our muscles ache

With muddy shoes and sweaty hands

We pull ourselves ashore

Leaving now, we head for home

But we’ll be back for more.