A little effort moves further

As we, the rowers
took to the lake’s
later stages,
eyes strained
with the joint effort
of exercised arms,
and at the unearthly
time’s start;

it was 6 am after all.

Presently, the distance
we’d covered in an hour,
became a mile craved
nearer to gliding home
in recognized waters.

The oars disappeared
into the morning mist,
and smoothly, surely
we overtook
their trailing doubts.

Timing left us as clear
as a midday sky,
streaked white upon blue.

This time we’d distanced
more than just midway,

further than mid-alive too.

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