Tuesday, May 19, 2015

New Land.


Land ho! The sailor yelled, Land ho!
Stay with the wind. The rocks below.
The harbour's clear and still. Our souls have tired
The sun has set the place on fire.

There is a place to anchor. Just beyond.
Hold steady as she goes. Lower the sails.
Take to the oars good men. Be strong.
No death by drowning we desire.



1 comment:

Learning to Swim

The fishing boat rises and falls on the turbulent blue-black sea. One moment I see it, riding high. The next it is barely visible...