The Open Boat

On a silken sea of flotsam and jetsam
I sit, surveying the restless waves:
The sea breathes easily
In late morning sun.
From overhead a gull descends,
Circles my head thrice,
Peruses the debris,
And moves on.

Languidly I lie
Across the thwarts of this
Weathered wooden boat,
Baked by the heat of
The climbing yellow sun.

Waves rise, waves fall;
Like a curious kitten
The ever-restless sea bats
The beaten boat about,
This boat that surges and sucks
In a sea of flotsam and jetsam.

An anchor might do;
Still, far from shore
The water is deep,
A sturdy dock now of no use.
Here, in the realm of open sea,
Amidst flotsam and jetsam,
Only the boat and I remain,
Cast adrift, awaiting redemption.

2012 © Brian T. Maurer


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s