Author Information
Shannon
Soaking shoes on wet green grass,
Heads colliding with familiar foes,
Apples skimmed across the dew,
Bruises were many, now are bruises few.
Boats drone over crashing wakes,
Grumps groan, such a noise it makes,
Creaky doors and squeaky floors,
All commonplace as the craft lightly shakes.
Jobs being assigned to the first to rise,
Sifting from bed with bloodshot eyes,
We work on our knees for minutes on end,
To depend on these people, is to really depend.
Whistling winds as night grew to morning,
The black sky speckled with fragments of wonder,
Row-boats loaded with unwilling guests,
Cutting night winds and vanishing vis-vests.
