Sunday, April 11, 2010

I Miss You

White sun fingers burst through cirrus
piercing the azure sky and flexing
pointing West with intensity
as if showing the way
urging us on with impatient beams

Down below
the sloop bobs slowly in the sea
the wind holds its breath in anticipation
while the lad watches from the crow’s nest
his skin like old leather
aged beyond his years
rope-callused hands fiddling with the telescope
squinting into the uncertain distance

Yes there is land ahead
he’s sure of it but makes no declaration
he eyes dark clouds that lurk behind
they are inching ever-nearer
but he is not afraid

The ship is steady
it will go the distance
it will stay the course
it needs only the winds of time
to carry it forth

In the crow’s nest the lad leans back
closes his eyes and telescope
and reminds himself that
the winds will come

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