HENRY IN HIS BOAT
(Bob Coltman)

For Henry Thoreau, along the Great Meadows of the Concord River.

Yellow reeds frozen in the ice,
Twice a crow calls in the black trees,
A moth flutters across the waters low,
Lower and lower till his wings make ripples go,
There goes Henry with his oarlocks
Muffled, so as to make no sound,
Reflections paint the trees upside down,
Henry in his muffler and his serviceable coat,

CHORUS
There goes Henry in his boat again,
Floating on the river seldom lets you down,
It's so quiet you can scarcely hear a sound,
And the grey sky takes you by the throat,
There go the rocks idly gliding by,
An airplane makes a big dent in the sky,
The long horizon seems to float -
There goes Henry in his boat.

I think he's thinking of his brother John
Dead in a winter of a quick chill,
I think he's thinking of that bare hill,
That fallen tree that seems to float,
Seeds strung on a weed stem,
Alder thickets in the meadow's hem,
Winter cattails, leaning, breaking,
Ice patterns softly shaking,
CHORUS

A mouse stirs in the curly leaves,
Two otters floating like unemployed thieves
Huff and dive as they see me
Standing by the water dark as whiskey,
Sparrows speaking out of the woods-line,
Stones that scarcely notice spring or wintertime,
Silver light and golden grass are kind again,
There goes Henry in my mind again,
CHORUS

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Click to play (joeweb)