The Northeaster

I feel like I got a little wordy on this one.
https://photos.app.goo.gl/C9BKLvIJLy9oCdXH3
I kept checking the word count until I passed 300. My voice does not usually sound stuffy, but it’s that time of year when my sinuses are draped in yellow pollen from trees, weeds, and grasses. I find in my jacket pockets a ready supply of soft tissues. Hay fever gets me every year.

I titled this poem after Homer’s most lovely, “The Northeaster,” where he demonstrates the movement of the Atlantic Ocean, and especially for Easter, only three weeks away. What I have written picks up the wonderful story line from the last chapter of John.

Winslow Homer |The Northeaster | 1883 | Watercolor, 14″ x 19 3/4″ | The Brooklyn Museum

The Northeaster

£et’s go back by the sea,
say our goodbyes a later date ~
three days sway beneath my blue sail
of a soul searching wait ~

the Lord prepares for our arrival
long before we hit the shore ~
cast my line in living water
in pursuit of crimson lure ~

my wide eye on the glimmering
let each wave reflect the morning ~
above and beyond a new drama,
like a curvy crest forming ~

the second and all visible
is what I’m aiming for ~
the second and all visible
is what I’m aiming for ~

shifting patterns open out
onto a far away distance ~
love is our greatest resource
ever fresh in my senses ~
ever fresh, ever fresh like salt spray on my skinses ~

and it’s hard to heal
the hurts between us ~
it takes years and years
to complete new beliefs
and structures within us ~

so, you keep looking, keep looking, keep looking
and I’ll keep loving, keep loving, keep loving
my no fair weather friend ~
I pray we don’t blow up in
the process all over again ~

~ Stacy