Tuesday 23 November 2010

Cowperesque

No outboard motor can prevail
To reach the distant bluegreen coast;
A breath from skies must swell a sail,
Or all our toil is lost.

The wind is complexly crosscutting;
Drags the sailstitch apart.
Motor spits at sea, tut-tutting,
The incompetence of our art.

No comments: