english poem (untitled)

[keithmack]

In the chill of the Northwestern air,
I looked over the edge
at the wake which erupted
from the sides like volcanoes,
and I saw broken reflections
that stared back at me
with a misty cloud of breath,
telling me to take comfort
in the rock that was in front of me,
my goal set out
and my destination secured
to the rhythm of the ship
rocking up and down
and as the boat sped along
getting closer to the island,
I looked out across the Sound,
gray devoured the sky
and light shone through the overcast day
for a fleeting moment,
the boat stopped.