Wake Up!

If you've read my work for a while, you know that I'm a prose person. I'll read poetry, but other than a lousy haiku, I don't write it. A while ago, I ran into the poem I am presenting below.

Cruise

What my wife does know won't hurt her. What she does know is that as my father before me, all a pretty vessel needs to do is whistle, and I'll pack a cruise bag.

Islet

There was a tiny islet that was my personal airy from which I could view the cove. When things were awful, I could row out and use it as a place to rant noisily. None other than the shorebirds heard me.