The Boatman

Boatman seeks the horizon

as the little prow rides up

and the low sun spreads gold

over the rolling, tugging sea.

He is crouched on a little seat,

eyes fixed, guiding her out,

a sure boat of curved plank,

little diesel pulsing and puffing.

He stands sea legs apart

to fling a black circle,

and the sea spits as it lands

and falls before scattering eyes.

Sea swell, sea slap.

A man in a rolling boat.


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