Adrift
A Poem
Wide oars claw into the fat sea,
In vain effort to steer up and down,
Long lost listless beneath blinding clouds,
Burying stars at night and the sun by day.
The lone woesome cot-sized boat,
Cramped and crowded with one aboard,
Trudges and strains against beating slaps,
With no guide in mind let alone in sight.
There have been promising disappointments,
Where sparse coves were met,
Only to feed and house cackling gulls,
Who proved more isolating than the sea.
Where hope was lost around the tenth islet,
A sprinkle of sand teased,
Quiet sea-sprayes resignation was found,
Along with relative fresh stranded fish.
The gripped split oars slosh as they stall,
To slow and stare either North or South,
At a vague shimmer on the horizon,
A mass of land never seen before.
In the cloudy penumbra over that sea,
A sigh of annoyance joined the waves,
As the strokes resumed once again,
Sailing away from those salty shores.
#HI