A splendid serenity suffuses the planet
and stars, buoyed by the pale calm of their glow,
gift the world their pledge of unending sobriety.
The new moon glimmers in the sky's low trough,
a golden curve like a wheelman's smile
and the ocean flattens glossy like a silk sheet,
stretches windless to the arc of the dim horizon.
Propeller spins. The dark fleck of speeding hull
creases the invisible.
On bow, starboard, a deep crease of water,
endless through the shimmer,
traps, within its crests, its valleys,
white curls of foam that fracture, fizzle,
wavelets that, left to themselves,
would ripple all the way to shore.
Poet John Grey, a frequent contributor to MyStoryLives, is from Providence, Rhode Island. His book, “What Else Is There,” is published by Main Street Rag. He has been published in Agni, Hubbub, South Carolina Review and The Journal Of The American Medical Association.
No comments:
Post a Comment