Covered by tarps, boats are at dock.

No traffic on the river, everything at lock

Down, slowed by December's slow rhythmic turns.

Just sunlight on the water, and lone birds

Passing high overhead.

All's quiet on the Charles this afternoon.

No sailboats or rowers, no synchronized crews' tune.

Winter sun reflects on water, on skyscrapers along the shore.

The river flows, following hope to a far off door

Heading to spring.