My forest trees
Claw their fingers
Through the leaves
Just now.
Burnished tatters
Blown to ground
Summer's litter
Jettisoned aloft
Dark ragged rooks
Flap their flags
Fly Jolly rogers
In the rigging
I alas no pirate king
A mariner ashore
Praying for a fair wind
And a rising tide.
A patch over one eye
Searching for a blue patch
In the sky.
JL 24 Oct 2011
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