shelly beach

shelly beach
   to a father & yachtie

shelly3
we
always walked
that last of
the way
on a path of
clay and shell
sketched along
the shoreline like
the furthest
reach of a
wave
boats on the
cradle still
as in those days
when you’d bring
me here with
you to get
something, chat
with someone about
a thorny problem
only a seasoned
yachtie might have
a skerrick of advice
upon, a piece
of paraphernalia
not gotten
anywhere else.
i look up at
the cradles
the boats like
birds caught in
mid-flight
fish out
of water
time
slowing down to
a crawl in their
shadows on grass
summer dry.
age, you never
told me, dries
everything out
from hull to
ruddy skin
drawn up on
its frame of
years,
on the low-tide
the catamaran
‘katipo’ tilted
on the mud
the in-tide will
see her off
sails shall yet
be raised
wake foaming
from the bow
like a beer
cracked into
the steadied
glass.

december 2013
shelly beach

shelly1
the ‘Katipo’ happily afloat
shelly2
the yard

Copyright © 2013 Peter Le Baige. All Rights Reserved

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