Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

How Like the Masts of Sailing Ships


How like the masts of sailing ships
are the tops of the bare bone trees.
And how like the creak of deck boards
is their groaning in the breeze.

How like the seething ocean
is the song of trees in the wind.
And how many days must pass
before I see the sea again?

How many days must pass away
Ere I see the sea again?

How like the wind carved sand dunes
is the snow in sculpted drifts.
And how like the tang of salt spray
are the tears upon my lips.

How like the lost gull’s crying
is the yearning in my dreams.
And how many months must fade
before I go back to the sea?

How many months must fade away
Ere I go back to the sea?

How like the foam upon the wave
Is the frost on the swaths of hay
How like the fog that shrouds the shore
Is the wood smoke, low and gray.

How like the ocean’s ebbing tide
does my journey backwards flow.
And how many years must pass
before I find my way back home?

How many days and months and years
Till the sea calls me back home?

 

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