DAUBER
The young lad signed aboard.
Made note of his stated share, trip’s end
Had not a friend here
To lighten odd changes
Uneasy sea stomach at first.
The old salts making their
Umpteenth trip crosst the brine
Snickered at his green-ness.
But he had brought his oils
And a few canvas boards
To capture with growing skill
The moods, terrors, deaths, strange calms
Of that Ocean.
No better way in his mind.
Soon fear left behind.
Delighted with the wind.
Comments
Post a Comment