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Merry Meet Again (Leaving the Island)
This crossing
I stand at Islander's bow,
windblown, entranced.
Strong she rolls, up and over white-capped waves,
bow-pennant whipping back long and thin --
her power rises through
my feet, my thighs, my rippling arms
against the rail, pulling free --
loving you, island, fiercely
leaving.
Charcoal and silver above your coast
the storm hangs over me,
it holds to the horizon a paling band
of orange sky.
Behind me
sun pours into the sea.
Thwarting now our twining fates
I take you in, I promise
to be back in spring.
Will I then root myself in you
begin the knotting of a life
textured like scrub oak and huckleberry bushes,
smooth and marbled as the rainwashed paths,
ripping like the cove waters over deep currents
warm and cold.
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