The engine’s hum on my father’s fishing boat.
Adventures begun on ferry boats.
Tranquil silence, joyous wind on family sailboats.
These are the vessels that carry me.
Tides change like the rhythm of life,
With ever shifting balance.
Winds rise and fall,
Like the pitch and roll of emotions.
Innumerable times I have traveled,
Between the islands that form The Narrows.
Rolling swells trail behind,
Marking the moments passed.
When I reach my final port,
What evidence of my passing will there be?
But the wake will leave a fleeting trace.