𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐢𝐥
The tide made docking
difficult—
I hold glowing coals
from gripping ropes,
my hair is a nest of straws
harvested
from ocean fields.
I stand on the bow and watch
you at the helm
against a Monét sky,
the coins of day spent,
your face burnt and content
from cranking chrome winches
and pulling halyards amidst
twenty knot winds:
the sloop keeled at wild angles
clowning with whitecaps,
and the scents of salt and seaweed
filled our nostrils
and we soared with the seagulls.
— D. G. Vachal
from Vachal, D. G. (2026), The Turning of Light, (Amazon)
* Image: Alone by Giampaolo Macorig
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