1.
Alone at the rail
with the sea's pitch night,
edges lathering creamy,
a monstrous funnel
mouthing smoke, the thin
star light running through me:
I could be cocooned
in cosy gloom,
alone at the bar,
in the warm saloon;
could be observing
all manner of men.
Alone at the rail
will do me.
2.
If you peer deeper into night,
island masses coalesce
like breaching whales, intense
against thin traceries of star
and sky. Occasional looped strands
of light swoop by, a spangled ferry.
Close, between the land and lee,
low on the water, solitary,
a humble light, caique-sized,
caique-height, that gladdens me.
There are still men in little boats
who risk themselves to know this sea.
Alone at the Rail
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103021600528
Свидетельство о публикации №103021600528
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