Open Boat Poet

by B. Z. Niditch

At first light
a mourning dove
from a cleft in clouds
curls on the dock
as raindrops slip
into the home harbor.
Waves swirl and pool on the beach.
They are still to the mind’s eye,
silent to the mind’s ear.
The sailor waits; they will move,
and they will speak.


Copyright © 2012 by B. Z. Niditch

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