How odd that my recent mutterings re. Dick Fosbury should find an echo in this poem by Milton Acorn.
When you’re caught in an eight-foot boat â€”seaworthy
You’ve got to turn your back, for a man rows backwards
Taking direction from the sting of rain and spray.
How odd, when you think of it, that a man rows backwards!
It is always a pleasure to take a walk through Wood s Lot and find this kind of thing…