Yellow Boat

Lifted into dry dock, where the sun
hits the little yellow boat, it seems
so happy, perched above the bay waters.

But how can this be? It hangs poised in the air,
caught ready in the brink, though insistent
in its wrong direction,

all set to crash into palm and pines of shore.
Opposite. It is the opposite
of what it should be, yet there it is,

in the sunlight, sheen in its grommets,
proud and lighted mast—
the undeniable glee of it

caught showing it's not
what we all know
it to be.

Copyright © 2009 Kathleen Driskell All rights reserved
from Seed Across Snow
Red Hen Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission