Navigator's Dream

It’s got to be routinish, I presume The sun was glinting on the captain's polished rudder The banks of Avon, clenched in gorgeous summer bloom Spread silence, with its permanent cicadas We've reached a waterfall, then gracefully turned round One ivy-covered old hotel fade out of sight Soon all the passengers will step on solid ground And disappear in the halo of daylight Meanwhile the captain talks about his mortgage His navigator listens absently, he thinks About his dream, if only he could forge it In real size, in grandeur scheme of things.