Friday, December 27, 2013

On the Boats

The skipper stood at the helm, peering into the brume
Eyes calculating the changes in the wind and the water on the glass
Taciturn, consummate, master
of ropes, the ocean and many a reckoning

Of built cities and lost souls
He had been the one to see them all
The gales blew hard in the hardened heart
Words of salt and sagas of the sea

Hooks and lines and hearts and minds
The old dock in town was falling down
with the great weight of a thousand trips
and a thousand stories

The darkness was a long time coming
The Sun seemed to take half the day to get to the horizon
The fishes slept and the birds wept
at the loss of the day and the loneliness of the night

The sound of a far off horn
Would warn of the lack of sight or a coming storm
Bays and beaches and kelp and sand
Deliver us from the brine to the land

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