Poem Category: Windjammers

Before the windjammer

a path laid

by the moon‘s rise.

Windjammer anchor

I find its start to rust

in the rose‘s bed.

Windjammer

leaning back to guess

the height of her crow‘s-nest.

A swoop of gulls …

the windjammer‘s sails

lifting all of us.

Horizon

the windjammer‘s slide

to the other side.

The fog rolling in

with the fleet

fisherman‘s harbour.

Pregnant with sails

the windjammer rolls in

on the harbour‘s swell.

Strolling onto work

past all the pleasure yachts

to our old windjammer.

Windjammer bones

yet the sea‘s first cooled rock

still its deepest treasure

Full of sails

the windjammer home

near day‘s end