On The James

Jan Healy
EVWP Summer 2009

Written on the Jamestown-Scotland Ferry


Frantic dash to the ferry, racing to the appointed time;
cars impatiently form the line
to rumble onto the rocking platform.
Inner, middle, outer –
a man casually points to assigned spaces
for cars to sit gasping for a breath of air.
Radios and engines are stilled
while seagulls squawk and escort each ferry passing.

Silence the mind with the car.
Allow the eyes to ponder
the world near the ferry on the James.
Shivering in the morning cool,
the pushing current carries other boats down river.
Geese sift through beach debris,
nonchalantly considering the bouncing daylilies in a yard nearby.
Still-sleeping houses pay no attention while the
slender-fingered docks stretch out from the shore.

Later, loud tourists gawk and aim their cameras in the distance.
Children scramble to the front only to be splashed with the river’s sprays.
Meanwhile, the regulars visit with people known.
Others simply sit,
an exercise in patience
as the ferry lumbers forward.
Abruptly,
bouncing against the distant dock,
dreams and conversations are replaced
with the staggered starts of throttle.
All eyes turn to the motions of the man,
waiting for permission to leave
the ferry on the James.