Becalmed, the doldrums bear down frowning.
Hull fouled by weeds, persistent barnacles.
The ship is steadfast in her silence,
The light alone enough to shatter us.

Beyond us, off the bow the dolphins plunge
And leap toward home
While we, a company of refugees,
Lie static on this open ocean.

Our eyes are burned by distance.
No breeze to flutter them,
Our tattered flags of truce no longer fly,
But hang like limp, compliant prisoners.

We pray for wind,
The puff-cheeked gods of weather
Drawn upon our useless maps.

A force 10 gale,
The flecks of wave tops on our faces
Rage, determined demons,
In our dreams.