on a cold October day
the sky is gray
but the wind is brisk
so sails are set
while the tide is high
as lines are cast
blue-green swells
rise and fall
like the hopes
and dreams of men
lost/found souls
upon the water watch
as geese V their way south
in low black lines
round and round
in circles ride
to what purpose or
from what to hide
as winter winds
begin to blow
whose spirit
rides the bow sprit
high and low
the seasons sail
is near the end
fear not
as a new generation will rise
to heave on halyards
and set a new course
...george, my pome "soon" is sorta depicted as dreary (my word)...and i love the lilt of this one, sail--there'll be more--days, lives, loves, etc...i like, i like...peace, chaz