Slap-lapping water, with
a little imagination,
can float the solid earth
we stand upon,
watching a loading boat.
Hungry, an eager ferry is big enough
to carry several cars, but
seems a shade too small for that
close-up.
Fresh-painted steel appears of grander stature
when the captain’s tower
takes an hour,
sinking at horizon,
near the witnessed,
teasing tips of an island’s stranded trees.
This boundless, timeless lake
that we depend upon,
can float you, them and me
with all our things and destinations,
none of which are what
or where dream says they’d be.
Robert On The Air 