The round sun rises red above the foothills outside my window
as I contemplate the red sky in this photo of Bermuda
with a melting pat of butter left of that day's sun.
My trees are as dark and still as this boat's sails.
Without so much as a gentle breeze,
the sailors cannot sail into the sunset
even if they wish.
"Whatever floats your boat," the saying goes,
but my boat was sold years ago
after damaging storms battered the yacht club.
Now no wind can move me across the water,
no water float my boat.
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Oops! It must have been Bonnie's BOOKS blog, and not her WRITING blog, where she's giving out those kitty treats. I don't think I like all this water.
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4 comments:
Bonnie,
That's stunning!!!
Love it, love it.
I awarded you with a thoughtful blogger award on my page... please drop by when you get a chance, and pick it up.
Best,
Scarlett & Viaggiatore
Thanks for the comment ... and for the award! Wow, I'll post it immediately on my sidebar.
Great photo, great poem. I'd never heard the setting sun described as a pat of melting butter, but it really does say it all.
bonnie,, that was so lovely,,, almost sad tho,, as if you have given up on your boat all together,,,
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