Lines at 2 a.m. on the Sea of Cortez
       

The bright morning brought its mirage—
the far shore and one shadow-free
inlet loomed before us. Until
two gulls swooped across our deckhouse.
That pair rising with a single shriek
into the sudden overcast.
Then it was dusk all day. Humid,
warm, the sullen light of a low sky.

When evening arrived without stars
we saw the vast gulf grow formless—
Brackish tide pools, coves, a pocked reef

and each white beach slipped out of sight
with the sea snakes. Old turtles, all
but blind, cleaving dense clouds of silt.

The swarming crabs, hammer-head sharks,
swordfish, prowling rays. The nearly
level sea itself invisible ...

Our boat bobs among shallow troughs,
horse-like, irritable before
the worst weather. In water quiet
but not at rest—the sleepless stir
of a tense calm. Now blue-black clouds
quake with storm light and we know
this night has a life of its own,
we hear it breathing in the dark.

Tweet

Copyright © 2019 George Keithley All rights reserved
from Life and the Fields
Turning Point
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission