47 Knots


How can little round hills look so full and flat,
     So near and far at the same time?

The wind blows stronger than before
And my gaze is drawn to the windows
     Facing the bay.

Outside the bright green hills
Are lined up across the waves
Like the first day of creation.

Full-bodied clouds come down
To lend their white perspective
To the vivid blue sky, filling in
     The empty spaces.

Again the wind grips me, stronger this time.

If I keep sensing the sounds outside,
     I will soon be swept up
     Like a handful of dried leaves
     To swirl among the ravens.

They make their way above the landscape,
     Regardless of the wind's fury
     Or the changes that threaten
     To rearrange everything.

I look away and stay where I am,
     What I am,
     For today.


©2016 Michael Fraley




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