Up

Up

And down

Cutting

Quite a dash

On

And on

Pitching

And ploughing

Here

Then, sitting

Right now

Almost on the beach

For our Myrtle

1944-2021

Silently we sat by the sea swell

Knowing the pleasure

Of the howling wind

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On the main deck

On the main deck

By Muster Station ‘D’

Level with the swell

As we cut through the water

Travelling at quite a rate of knots

Past drilling rigs

And marker pylons

The TV is an old TV

And the passengers

Are mostly old

Because this is what we do

Cross places off

Of our bucket list

As if time alone

Is not time enough

Next year

A firm base

Solid with its solitude

Free from solitary loneliness

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The island

The island

Is free

From Dutch Elm disease

Though

What do I know

Of such a tree

Or its deathly illness

Why not stay for the summer

Here, there

Or anywhere

Why not stay now that you can

Yes, now that you can

For the very first time

One step left

Then take another

Quick step

Slow step

Finding love

In the repeat of commotion

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A line of clouds

A line of clouds

Cut, as with a knife

To rest

Flat side down

All the way along the horizon

Between that place

And this place

Twenty leagues

Or twenty fathoms of ocean

Now two birds

In unison flight

Outpace the boat

Of several hundred horsepower

We rise, we fall

We top, we tail

We have a pleasant trip

So the big screen reminds us

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The almost never-ending

The almost never-ending

Line of the horizon

As the ship

Sails perpendicular

At the absolute right angle

For time and distance

To be no time or distance at all

From the minor wave to the major swell

I am reminded of the rule of sevens

But, right then

Right there

A small fishing boat

With anchor dropped

On to the unseen sea bed says:

I am the one

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