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Dave Bonta
a little wind for the little boat
going to and fro
on one little sail
as a boy
what my mind was
I did not sing
I would turn
the morning off
busy making tomorrow anew
from a sail
from the coast of a god
A sun for myself—
pie of a life I never tasted.
I am captain. I set sail
for the farewell chance.
Boy in the bay, stay
and understand:
letters only attend
the coming of a sail.
Midway, we could see
places very pleasant;
the further we went,
the more we lost sight.
At cards, I come to see
my fruitless precaution,
getting without book
when I can get the book.
This desire to be here
or to be there: all day
under sail, the money in
my hands, the fine moon
walking upon the sea…
Life ushers some as heirs-elect
To weather wind and gale;
Here lies a man whose ships were wrecked
Ere he could hoist a sail.