Always a convoy
for the long sea voyages
The ship like a whale
or a shark with pilot fish
The hills receding
as our masts climbed up the sky
And I knew it would be weeks
before we returned
Though we had strong sails, good winds
and plenty of hands.
Yet I never can recall
the last trip of all.
4
I remember the islands
flashing in the sun
Mostly barren rocks
and slopes of tattered vineyards
The waterfronts deserted
except by seabirds