Short Combers Poems

RETURN OF THE BOAT

Waiting on the quayside at dawn,
Anxious eyes strained  to sea
Their men home from o’er the horizon
In a still small boat ploughing
Through the mighty rough combers,
Now disappearing , now reappearing.
Glad to have them back home
From the deep unknown where
Only a wooden plank separates
Life from the depth,
As she crosses the bar
To ease down to the quayside....

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Walking barefoot on the noon shore
Oblivious of the combers
With their new metal detectors
Her head bowed low as if in prayer;
But at a closer look we see
That she is holding a letter.
Her grimaced face stared long at it;
Then dropped it on the glistening
Wet sand and stood there a moment
As the returning salty wave
Washed over its ink scripted words-
Words now lost forever in time.
Its message known only to her
And the blue eternalness sea....

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Hens are not meat eaters
They do not like it at all
But the giant sixty-foot hen had the beach combers running that fall

She strutted back and forth
Giving them all the evil eye
I think it is hilarious that they think they are going to die

Her daddy the rooster laughed when he heard the tale
It came from the man who delivers the mail

My daughter is a jokester, that is for sure the old rooster said.
He loved that she scared humans into thinking they soon would be dead....

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