a wooden sail-ship floats / anchored by the shore of a verdant cove
a descendant of the forest / where it was born from human hands
heaving a firm set of planks / polished to gleam reflections of blue
above and below the wide spotted sky / alive with pearls of moisture
over the great green / studded canvas of light
by the falling sun that hangs / instantly sitting behind shadows
over the same range of hills / glowing
radiant with a supernatural emerald sheen
and from the lowlands / shrunken groves of early summer
whispers the lost Anatolian tiger
from footsteps that wander / from ship to shore and back
gathering at dusk to breathe / drink and eat
horizon peaked with bald stone-crested hills
raised up from the coastline / raw stone
crumbling shades surfacing / plates of the planet
all earth growing tangled / prehistoric trunks up
ancient, medieval, modern / Aegean eyes
who lived and died / for a sight of the inlet
where rocks sharpen / spiked urchins give way
to paths of leaves / turquoise rippled water darkens
a liquid siege, mirror-like as the face of vanity, Narcissus in the flesh
smooth enough to welcome the bow of the wooden child of the forest
as makers, gods and humans / delight over the earth
we glide between sea and air / we are fugitives of the world
passing through the scope of history: a picture cut exactly to frame
our shape is a sail, the hull of a ship / rocking in a cove silent but for wind
almost out of earshot of the faint seagull cries / the draining motors
passersby laugh drunkenly onboard through into the listening silence
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