fill a kettle
light the gas
fire up the elemental
be patient but wary
your minute, personal tempest
simmers long
before it boils away in a blink
will it be whiskey or brandy
maybe some rum ...
you mix with your lightkeeper's brew
go slow
take your oblivion
one shot at a time
dose in hand
retire to your porthole
overlook
what is a lovely view
but only in good weather
this long night ...
Polaris is scrubbed out
beneath steel-wool clouds
in the sparks and soot
there is no seeing the Way
alone, upon dark waves
persists
a single-minded yachtsman
his gliding and swinging ways
long lost upstream
his course now sodden and shortened
the gale-drunk seafarer knows
tack with economy
or be washed away in the rage
drowned in silent eddies
why not open
your drop-splattered pane
call out and invite the journeyer in
be more than a glimpsed beacon
to a lost navigator
would he mistake the warmth
the energetic vibrato in your tones
for the sizzled warning
of a coming lightening strike
he's a little further
down-current
this rain-pelted mariner
haphazardly jettisoned
increasingly absorbed
in the turbulent flow
a waterlogged cork
bearth-less, adrift
aquatic detritus
cast off ... and away
from the high-life at sea
a dead or mast-head
the difference ...
a question of time
and the rising water level
still ... why not open your portal
call out the Way
All words and images are my own
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