You clear your mind
Of indecision, as the birds
Fly dreamily over the supple trees
There's a benefit in it
In believing in thoughts drifting in
Reasoning like a wizard
Carefully concocting beneficial magic
There's a pall of sullen clouds
That can always make a skygazer blue
You mustn't be that pall-sensitive
Choosing the sink-hole over the daisy
You use logic to piece together
Never take your ships of boldness apart
Like a pointless wrecker
Working on hull and masts
Sprits and jibs, the cordage & anchor
You clear your mind and find your guts
The birds send you a message
You settle into for your melodious tunes
Knots-besotted
(too canny for a granny)
as sailors go (and they will)
of which I am (still) one
(when day is done)
I can bend a bowline
(from stern to stem)
with the best of them
(just so's you knows...
the rabbit out of the hole comes
'round the tree runs then back down goes)
and tie (not hit) a reef (or square) so fine
or (none too sheepishly)
yank a sheepshank
in a (fairly hefty) hank of line
also (if it's not too late)
do a (non-binding) figure eight
(with half a minding) to stop the rope
from sliding (I hope)
(and/or) fraying
to (defray the cost)
for new cordage paying
(in time a stitch)
yet there's one more which
(so all's not lost)
(clever clogs) calls a clove hitch
Humble this moment under skies of grey
Reading poems of furtive words wrote with you,
Contemplating where you are now this day
With an ascetic mind of times we knew.
The love we shared on a day once like this
A time so long ago the spring of youth,
My heart heaved in heavenly days of bliss
Speaking words of unmitigated truth.
Yet you went away far over the sea
With nonchalant parents on life’s voyage,
Waving with a kiss as you left the quay
Shallow sunset that swallowed the cordage.
I was only eight and you barely nine
Wondering if ever your thoughts as mine.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
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