The distance

And mists mute the tone

Of the buoy’s bell

Far offshore

Ocean’s metronome

Further off a horn sounds

Ghost calls made for spirits

The living slumber below

Warm bunks and low lights

The soft splashing

Of cold waves

Against the gunwales

The soft rolling

Of something

Unsecured on the deck above.

© Erik Hansen 2014


Leave a comment

Filed under Creative Writing, Edges, Poetry, Writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s