Ben Paynter - driftwood

three more hours until the boat comes in
worry about those storm clouds in the north,
about how the wind backhands the water
at the rocks, splashes its spit into this face

there is a mast on the horizon, no sail
small wake trails and seagulls circle with
little dives, screeching calls that sound
as if the ocean’s soul has died

something has, somewhere I search
in the rain for a line to toss her way
search for her bare feet on wood planks
for her rain eyes in all this ocean

blue depth, she only harbors here
for the sake of the lightning fireworks
the sound of thunder on the rocks, the
slight touch of passion, but

tomorrow she will have left
there was a red sky
tonight

Ben Paynter

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/driftwood-4/