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On the Passed Time River

that winds through here,

near the point where it burbles

over Lost Day Rocks

and just before the Don't-Give-Up Falls;

the lazy floating,

the grayed head barely raised

to regard a west-slipping sun,

the faint cry from shore,

the rising mists of the maelstrom ahead,

the No-Going-Back Rapids,

the frail craft almost awash

in too late, too late.

The regrettable lack of a paddle.

- Ralph Murre