In the wake of

EastRiverWalk
Quiet waters, billowing clouds © 2014 Tamara Beck

The wake, like a trail on a wedding

Gown, at first, like that dress, white

With the churning waters, then green

With a carpet fringe of the river rapids,

Demarking the passing of the ship,

A boat, a yacht, really, full-steam quick

And powerful, the green carpet left

Behind its pull, no less than a magic

Genie’s ride, dipping, swaying, and

Swelling, the swells mysterious and

Memorable, the memory of the yacht

That sailed by on this crisp clean day

Sings on the river, a wake now gone

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