horizons

These waters, now, easy running,
    Whisperful through Poseidon’s shell;
  The swaysome hull, hushed, unhurried,
        Lulls on the rocking, foam-flecked swell
              .
In the wish of a westly wind
    Wafts the kiss of mist-borne salts;
  And dancing by our burdened bow,
        The exhausted sea retires from waltz
              .
The horizon tucks in the sun,
    Turning down for eventide’s moon,
  As teal heavens are slipping-on
        An indigo gown fringed in maroon
              .
The sails, rustling, restless phantoms,
    Lightning-white and pushed-to-pull;
They billow away from oaken mast,
        Making desire of what is dutiful
              .
My traveling companion—a lass—
    Fair, yet elder-wise, in her years:
The mirror-most of her late mother,
        A mask akindle ‘tween reborn ears
              .
For she is Home and we on our way
    As the girl whirls the wheel and tide;
Her hands quietly true-to-chart
        With charmingly unassuming pride
              .
I oft wonder on come-the-morrow,
    And to where the canvas might carry:
A future bruised, but hope-infused
        By the star-steadied course of our ferry
              .
My daughter perceives my heart-on-sleeve:
    “Shall we anchor through dusk instead?”
I softly smile, as this once was me:
        “No, love, ahead—sail straight ahead.”

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    Poetry: Two Years
        https://windstrewn.com/2018/08/21/two-years/