The buffalo is wading deeply
into the mud.
Ripe is the rice.

And white.
There’s almost no wind.
Sun in circles.

Rice is the door,
quietly is rustling at ajaring...

The proud warship Aiko sits in harbour,
Showing the flags, firing off salutes.
Her crew boasts to tourists of tremendous exploits,
Proud to serve on the pride of the navy.

The crew line the rails as the boilers build pressure.
It’s time to depart on the latest mission.
She looks pristine, her paint’s good as new
But the inside is rotting, she shouldn’t have put to sea.

Her latest mission, as always, to assist an ally in distress.
The crew, resolute, prepares for the fight.
She arrives on the site of the stricken merchant
And sends repair crews to close up the hull.

So far all is well, she’s able to help
But the chief engineer is highly upset.
He begs his captain to repair his own ship.
The decay is critical; she’s on the verge of collapse.

He’s rejected, of course – the other ship’s more important.
Finally the merchant’s fixed, and the crews come back.
They’re put straight to work, to salvage their home.
But Aiko’s already off to help others again.

En route to the next, they sail into a storm
‘No matter’, the captain said, ‘we’ve done this before!’
Perhaps so, but the ship was in better shape then.
The ship’s dashed against Noose Reef by the hundred-foot waves
Water floods in – the Aiko seems lost.

The rope in her hand, she weighs the choice.