Dawn

Dreamt the first two lines of this poem So I decided to go for it and see what emerged….

There’s a sullen red cloud on the horizon,

A ships in dock they say..

Will there be sailors in port today,

Or will it sail away?

Off to chase the Mackrel

Or to fish for Cod

Leaving on the high tide

Into the hands of God?

There’s red upon the horizon

Is it a sailors blood?

Staining the water with it

In a storm greater than the flood.

Will the sailors return again

Back to this quiet bay?

No man of weather can tell me.

But the portents are bad, they say.

White sails

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White sail, sailing, over the water.

Barely a breath to help you move.

White canvas, taut and stiff

Or billowing softly in the breeze.

Hot sun and morning mist,

A twinkle of ripples follow your wake.

Sails, tall and fair.

Sails standing out across the lake,

Bright against the wooded hill.

Your beacon shines to me.