The Foolishness of Men
The Cut
Spray sparkles flying
The man picked the conch shell
from the bilge
He let a sweet and sour tone echo
toward the island
A home signal
to all the families
That he was a free man
serious
alive
coming home
The mainsail out a bit
Fingers on tiller
capturing the lift
of more speed
through short seas
Ahead
the waters breaking sides
The cut smooth
Behind
Peebo charging
His sloop armed with sail
etching his place
on the horizon
Peebo’s arm raised
challenging
for the entrance cut
Conch blow
The sea breathes
anticipating the race
the breeze picks up
a scent
of contest
The sloop smoothed now
leaning just enough
no water on deck
sparkling sea
Hiram pulls boxes
and bags
from one side to the other
muscles straining under torn shirt
Satisfied of victory
before the race
barely looking
astern
The blue sloop is coming up
as his smile goes to thin lips
The jib out
main in a touch
Breeze blowing caps
Hiram pushes weight more forward
importance now
astern
Peebo smiles at his Family Treasure
She moves like no other
On God’s Sea
Hiram cannot out point her
Cannot out run her
The sea is her’s
here she goes
Family Treasure’s bow points
at The Ranging Light’s stern
starting to hide it with speed
the cut
just beyond their bow
room for one
in one tack
Peebo calls to Luther
hang out to weather
Let’s get by this Light
Show them
the ass of Treasure
a big smile from both
Now laughing
Luther on the shrouds
Head back and looking ahead
Peebo at the helm
The devil in his grin
they laughing
sea laughing
spray flying
The conch call from the Light
The conch call from Treasure
Laughing cussing from Luther
Laughing cussing from Hiram
The conch call from Treasure
The conch call from the Light
The breeze marches faster
The Treasure heeling more
Water in the bilge sloshing
Luther drenched way out
Wind in the shrouds
whistling
Both boats foam
through blue
deep waters
side by side toward the narrow cut
evenly powered now
not looking at the other
for fear of a mistake
straining sails
singing rigging
burdened masts
fixed sailors leaning forward
blue skies
white running clouds
crashing reef
sloops move together
rising and smoothly falling
cutting waves to diamonds
rainbows at the bows
narrow cut running toward them
beams touching now and then
no stopping now
reefs at sides beating seas white
looking straight ahead
bows only life
breathing stopped
conch shell forgotten
side eyed fleeting sights
pressure of them on us
fingers of death beneath
swirls of meaningless water
no time to wish nothing
after so long
The Shore
Mary holding Celeste’s hand
Wishing their men were back
Seeing them playing at danger
They both think of flour meal
And syrup Thinking of the children
girls laughing under the trees
boys laughing up in the trees
Why do men play so much
When life is serious and God-sent?
All gone in a flash of wood and white waters
Shaking their heads at the same thoughts
Holding hands once soft
Fixed smiling frowns and clear eyes
wrinkles that turn upward
breeze fluttering hats
——-
Poetry (c) H.E. Ross
Image: ChatGPT remixed