Washington Crossing the Delaware
based on the painting by Emanuel Leutze


A row of boats crosses icy water on a frigid 
Christmas morning. Huddled in each, men 
clutch muskets, use poles to push ahead
or shove aside floes that block their way.
Faceless forms blend into mass of urgent 
struggle, but clarity has found one boat 
in the foreground, its nameless crew 
bent to tasks, focused expressions 
contrasting the tumult around them. 
General Washington stands at center,
one foot propped on a cross plank, glint 
of saber at his waist, eyes on horizon 
like a prophet gifted with a vision 
of the future. Behind him, James Monroe 
hugs the Stars and Stripes. Far shore
is hidden by fog that hangs like gloom 
of oppression. In river’s midst, 
rays of light streak through dark sky, 
dawning of a new day not far behind.

Chesapeake Vision



When I stand on Tidewater’s marshy shore,
my back turned to the modern world,
it’s easy to pretend I am the first man
to set foot in this space. Wind sighs 
through sawgrass, carries the scent of salt 
and pine. Clouds tumble overhead,
bits of fluff that frolic through 
an amber sky. Just before the sun
tucks tree-lined shore, day’s last light
turns rippling water into liquid gold
and streaks the sky with colors
I didn’t know existed.

I wonder if this is how John Smith felt
gazing across Chesapeake Bay for
the first time, standing on a spot
just like this. If he could cast ahead
400 years and witness where
the tireless march of civilization
would lead, would he still yearn 
to tame the wilderness, 
to colonize and conquer? 
Or would he linger but one day
to marvel at the endless green
before returning aship, setting sail
to leave this land unspoiled?