Poets’ Corner: Father Ocean

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I’ll find him on the ocean break.

It’s where I see him best.

Sixty-something, hale and free.

Gray hair nearly white with age

And pink across his chest.

Great big belly, pearly white

Rising up on a blue-green sea.

Finer than a fine gull’s breast,

No tubes yet, and no restraints,

No tracheostomy.

He taught me how to float, y’know.

Tummy toward the sky.  To ride

Each wave and go without a care

For swells gone by.

He must ha’ descended from

A Donegal boatman’s son.

Through fair and foul he’d drift.

I’ll see him so until the day

My own poor swim is done.

I’ll find him on the ocean break.

It’s where I see him best.

Sixty-something, hale and free.

Gray hair nearly white with age.

And come about for me.

Rob Burnside, a yearly visitor to Edgartown, is a retired firefighter and published poet (Chapbook “Falling Off the Bone” currently available on Amazon) from Swoyersville, Pennsylvania.