"Eight winged men" by Topher Bank On the oars, Eight winged men fly.

Gripping water, Prying their hull past every ripple. Each fine blade cutting the wind With swift release. The coxswain cries loud While eight calmly strokes with a heavenly stride; Seven sets his sights on the patient pace set ahead as Six builds momentum to suppress turbulence from stern; Fives great stature slides easy over the smooth waters, Four soars with force through his billowing waves; Three beats at fours might while carrying his own load, Two, in great hype, keeps set and thrusts for more, And one, with perfect paddle, carries the eights balance. Perfection in pure stream Of unified poise and cadence. Shared vision, vigor, and poise Win all in eight.