![\"sail\"](\"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/10\/sail-1024x681.jpg\")
<\/h1>\n<\/h1>\nby Steve De France<\/p>\n
Rain in the harbor.
\nA fine mist falling from a high
\nsun streaked cloud bank, gentle rain
\nfalling like folds being shaken from
\na lacy curtain.<\/p>\n
I hear water hissing
\nunder car tires on Ocean Blvd.
\nA truck slides to a stop at the traffic signal.
\nSomeone stands on a horn.
\nA siren shrills past my corner
\nand heads downtown. The rain picks up.
\nA cacophony of thunder surges toward me
\nfrom a coming black bank of clouds
\nat the edge of the horizon.
\nA storm\u2019s coming, maybe a big one.
\nA sail at the mouth of the harbor,
\njust beyond the breakwater. I pick up
\nmy binoculars & focus down.
\nLooks to be a twenty footer bobbing
\nin the swells. The current trying to push her into
\nthe wall of rocks just by the lighthouse.
\nI make out the shape of a man dressed
\nout in yellow slicks.
\nHe\u2019s alone.
\nHe\u2019s hanging onto the tiller and riding his tack
\nfor everything he\u2019s worth.
\nI watch with excitement as he slides into
\nthe mouth of the channel,
\nmissing the grey rocks by only a boat length.
\nHe stands up, swings the boom, his tiny craft
\nbucks over a wave, and changes direction.
\nHe\u2019s running for home.<\/p>\n
As he gets closer to the beach,
\nI see his face.
\nHe\u2019s a man around my age.
\nHe\u2019s pouring something
\nhot from a thermos into a mug.
\nSmiling as if he was the luckiest guy
\nin the world, maybe he is.<\/p>\n
He looks at the sky, then right up at me
\nand smiles. I watch him sail by pelted with rain.
\nWhat would it be like to be him.
\nTo sail into the rain, and smile.
\nI\u2019d sail to Catalina.
\nSailing fish would follow my shadow,
\ndolphins would ride as high as my bow.<\/p>\n
I begin to smile, too.<\/p>\n
About this time the Harbor Patrol
\nsiren & blue lights on, charge up next to him.
\nThey throw a line & take him into tow.
\ndragging him toward the docks,
\nHe slumps back into his seat.
\nSmile gone.
\nCivilization had him by the throat.
\nI sigh, stare at the bay in falling rain.
\nAfter a while. I decide to walk up the beach
\nin spite of the weather.
\n###<\/p>\n
Steve De France is a widely published poet, playwright and essayist both in America and in Great Britain. His work has appeared in literary publications in America, England, Canada, France, Ireland, Wales, Scotland, India, Australia, and New Zealand. He has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize in Poetry in both 2002 and 2003. Recent publications include The Wallace Stevens Journal, The Mid-American Poetry Review, Ambit, Atlantic, Clean Sheets, Poetrybay, Yellow Mama and The Sun. In England he won a Reader’s Award in Orbis Magazine for his poem “Hawks.” In the United States he won the Josh Samuels’ Annual Poetry Competition (2003) for his poem: “The Man Who Loved Mermaids.” His play THE KILLER had it’s world premier at the GARAGE THEATRE in Long Beach, California (Sept-October 2006). He has received the Distinguished Alumnus Award from Chapman University for his writing. Most recently his poem “Gregor’s Wings” has been nominated for The Best of The Net by Poetic Diversity.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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