THE ELIZABETH ANN

The rolling, rocking waves

beat at the solid hulled boat with their timed

sun struck force.

My grin of pleasure broke

bright as white caps as the slow,

grinding movement thrust the boatload

of tourists to the island.

Spray and gulls, buoys and low,

small breasted islands blend

on the plexiglass window in

a hazy print.

As adventures go,

this is not a Viking’s coastal attack,

not the U-boat sunk off our coast.

No–patterns of life in simple flux, pounding to seek beauty,

compelled to search for seminal roots, amniotic wanderings,

   physical and

solid as the forthcoming town dock.

Our futures anchored temporarily between caulked and painted

windowed corners, we see

the path is open, again, to joy, hope and nature’s will.

Gus Bombard