• January 19th, 2015
  • Posted in Poetry

The North Sea, 11th July. Our last day at sea.

They understood the sea, the Dutch masters,
The thickening clouds, the rain,
Wave crests and bulk,
The bend of mast and crack of tawny sail,
The sun, breaking through heavy clouds
To turn distant sea bright green.

And here we are,
Holland faded behind us,
London ahead,
Sailing into a Ruisdael;
Pressed between timeless wind and wave
Surprised under leaden skies,
Summoning a last resolve.
Crescent white sails ahead
Of the yacht we chase
Caught in the glare of the sun
On the bright green sea.

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