We have been given another blank.
______Island is the prompt.
Many of the participating poets are grumbling about the lack of emotional content and imagination in these prompts. I’m going with Sucia, named for its reefy, rocky shores (Spanish for dirty), by the conquering explorers who named islands, coves and bays at whim. They should have branded this one Paraiso (paradise). It is one of the northernmost San Juan Islands and uninhabited. We often anchored there.
Sucia Island
Water lapping under the open porthole;
A larger boat in the passageway
Favoring the night for travel
While we prefer the day,
Finding safe anchors in places
Like Ewing Cove.
Salt air fills the head
Like a sleeping drug
And we awake revived
From the weary battle with
The Strait the day before.
Easing up the companionway at sunrise,
Bringing water to boil in the galley,
Mixing the ocean and seaweed odors
With coffee and cinnamon.
Off the stern, I wipe away the heavy dew
And settle in the early day sunbeams.
A seal pup pokes his whiskered face above the surface
Black eyes curious
Disappears and reappears
Amusing me with his sport.
Shorebirds twitter and dart
Playing tag with their bigger counterparts
Dropping shells, berries and twigs
According to the task at hand.
An eagle dips and everyone scatters.
I hear rattling cups below and unfold the charts
To map the day.
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