Sunday, November 18, 2012


Harvest moon glows like a
Tipping canoe in a black sea
Bare, stretching tree fingers
Criss-cross its face --
Grey rivulets against the yellow silhouette 

The precarious vessel
Seems at rest
Not bobbing
Just subtly in time
Drifting further down in
The dark sky expanse
Of waters

Sinking deeper

A constant
Though sparse
Mingling of stars
Range as points of reference
As buoys and distant lighthouses
For the lonely canoe

And the wind cannot wreck it
Nor waves beat upon it
It sinks because it has
Been commanded to do so

And even now,
The slender ship dips into obscurity 

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