Predawn Rowers

A quiet predawn scene—where riversounds, birds, and rowers move in rhythm with the coming light.

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It is the predawn, and the riversounds have started. The ferry’s deep thrum as it eases into the dock, and the plaintive cry of the bird I have not bothered to identify. It is a night bird. Soon, when the light comes, other birds will take over. The rowers’ shouts ring out from the river, a sound-mirror. Even though they sound close, I know they are not.

In the gloom, I imagine their boats: long, narrow, and white, they slice through the dun water like a blade. There are four rowers, pulling at the oars before crouching forward and angling the oar-blade back into the river with a deft flick. A fifth member, smaller than the rest, sits facing the rowers with a small megaphone, for barking instructions. The barking commences, and the day birds join in chorus, saluting the dawn.

Their timing is impeccable; it is always just before the dawn. Soon, the sky lightens just enough to let us know it is there and, before long, the trees show themselves. The light-pressure builds, the birds’ hymn erupts into a full-throated exultation, and the eye of God appears.

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This piece is part of the counter field.