Poem of the Month

A new poem will be placed here each month, usually from one of my published collections.

My poem for July 2020 is published in the latest issue of Scintilla.

Europe

I call you a lake
on which our boat
(red-white-and-blue)
glides under sail.

The island nation
whose anchor rattles
down-down-down
to a bed of sand.

The same wave
slaps our hull;
the same wind
flaps the jib.

The lake has room
for numerous craft.
Windermere-wide,
it feels fathomless.

We have our quirks,
our captain’s jokes.
You mend your nets,
squatting like a tailor

in an old print.
From a quayside cafe
there is laughter
and the chink of glasses.

There is room for all
on the lake’s surface;
the far hills at sunset
are bathed in light.

Were it not for the flags
we should not know
one from the other
as the boats skip by.