SISTERS ROCK

How many times have I, in my mind’s-eye,
in soaring, free flights of wistful fancy,
on a fair trade wind, floated out to sea

to land upon your jagged peaks and clefts,
there where the breeding, brooding boobies nest
on steep crests whitewashed with pelican mess,

among fledgling terns, featherless but furred;
or circled high above, a frigate bird,
then swooped so fast an osprey, vision blurred

to graceful cotillions of man o’ wars
and Spanish flotillas or armadas
that once did proudly prowl and prey your shores;

or mingled in the froth of crashing waves,
washing your feet and rushing at your caves
where many pirates rest in watery graves

and seaweeds waltz to solemn siren songs
among the shells of pacro, whelks and conchs
and salt-cured cedar ribs of galleon bones;

or scubaed with the groupers and the sharks,
with fish gills in your underwater parks,
and marveled at your reefs, your coral arks,

then, like a submarine to ocean floor,
would dive dark depths, discover and explore
cavorting creatures mythical of lore,

descending deep into your timeless sands
to sift encrusted gold coins in my hands
and lift the plundered treasures of your lands.

Then, like your loosened stones, my daydreams sink
for treasure I possess naught but this ink;
my buried navel string will never clink.

Copyright ©2001 by G. Newton V. Chance