Dark of the moon
whispers
through the shadows of the clouds
like a cat stalking its prey.
The midnight sea
glistens and glitters—
the crystal ball in the old dance hall.
Hushed by the sea mist
stands an island in shrouds
of blues and greys and greens—
a rose patterned carpet muted with age.
Whirlpools of water stars
skitter
around the anchor and chain
like flickering fireflies at play.
Briefly we’ll stay
then soon again be on our way
wandering nomads of wind and wave
we, the sailors of the sea.