BY DIRK JAMES
Copyright is held by the author
An ancient soul searches the four winds
just as the one who has lived so long looks at
some braided sunlit rigging, falling on the shoulders of seasoned timber
admiringly.
Just as the wooden figurehead answers to the sculptor’s chisel. The chips fall,
putting new life into an old place.
Use your eyes as narrator of this story, your taste, for a protagonist
and realize the chemistry of water and its Creator, the deep, black waters
reflecting the night.
Deep water the moon pulls this way and pushes that way are
the same waves from the start. The moon is a rare Blue, sailing on,
toward some southwestern ocean.
Jonah is the name, carved on the prow of this runaway moon,
quickly disappearing into the mist of a far horizon.
***
Dirk James lives in San Leandro, California. Dirk loves putting the finishing touches to a poem or a story, relaxing with his beautiful wife/muse, while sipping pina coladas and listening to jazz music on the box. He has been published in many literary journals including, CommuterLit.
