SAILING THE SOUND

               

    We shoved off.
        I took starboard,
        you took port and rudder,
        I the jib.
            The rising sail puffs proudly,
            slackens then inhales in sport.
    Will we have
        shifting gusts or calm or gale?
    Above the ribbons,
        one on either side,
        take turns,
            to flutter, fall, flash red or green
            to signal changes in the wind and
            guide us where to steer,
            which way to shift and lean.
    I want today
        to be a special day
    and yet I fear
            you'll see my anger flare.
    If we can stay in rhythm,
        task, and play
        perhaps I won't observe
            your jealous glare.
    By dock
        will there be tears amid the brine?
    I scan your face
        for any tell-tale sign.

 

 

Reviews

[Ufi Auttorri ~ Amy C. T..]

I don't know what it means to you, Glen, but having lived in the Monterey Bay area and San Diego areas for some time I can tell you it brings back a lot of memories. Mostly of the boats and the ocean and the feel of the sun, wind and smell of the brine. You capture those very nicely in this piece. The more personal aspects are certainly readable but I must think that they are colored by your own personal experiences and therefore are never fully knowable to the reader. But the message is clear in that regard and the question you leave us with is compelling. An master's painting, come to life wth elements occluded in darkness; and so the mystery goes. Thanks for posting. It's an excellent poem in my opinion.