.................................
The Migration of Yachts
.................................

I moved here for the view,
for the peace and tranquillity that a calm river brings.
When I look out my window
I can see yachts sprinkled like coconut
on the dark chocolate of the Hawkesbury.
They bob restfully,
and the clanging of rope on mast
is the distant ring of a cloister bell -
a man's imitation of a seagull's cry.

The boats flock around piers
like a congregation gathering after morning prayer,
discussing the weather,
the effect of the moon,
and complimenting each other for the sake of being friendly.
The slap of the water on their boughs
splashes conversation
in a game of echoes.

One night was particularly restful.

I was tired,
sleep was drawing its night robe on my shoulders
but before I closed my eyes, I stared out the window.
It was a bright clear night.
The stars twinkled a Steven Spielberg sky,
the calm river was a movie screen that mirrored the night.
And the boats were free of their moorings.

Slowly,
they bled
silently leaving.
The stars in the river moved out of the path
of boats gliding with unseen hands
away.
There was no cloister bell to say farewell,
there was no wake that shimmied the stars,
just the purposeful direction of boats as they arced
out to sea.

I thought to myself that it was odd that everyone
should take a night trip at the same time,
but it was such a perfect night....

When I woke in the morning
the boats were gone.
But a congregation of people gathered at the marina
sounding like a flock of seabirds
arguing over scraps of food.

.................................
Simon Lenthen
.................................

 
Copyright © Simon Lenthen
May 1996

...a poem in this room by Marie Coffin...
...on the wall -- my private wall...
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