Cold and gray, the day drizzled itself awake
Turned inward
Clouds lowered the ceiling to basement height
Out in the strait a fogbank prowled like a pack of wolves
Raggedly harassing trawlers and travelers
Like me, ascending the short ladder from the lurching float
Into the seaplane’s cold cabin
Soon packed sardine tin tight with sullen suits
What shreds of sleep still lingered torn away by the roar and rattles
Of the slap happy runway race across the waves
Up into the lowering clouds which kept a lid on
Then the pack of wolves returned
To nip and heel the seaplane back to cold reality
We could have dropped a line for lunch
But with a lurch and clang we met a reef
Rising up where it shouldn’t have been but was
Hyper wakeful we watched kelp beds swirl dim greenly in the fog
While the echo of the pontoon kissing rock reverberated
Over the shock of this unexpected interruption
When flight no longer soared but saw the sea close up
Motoring like a dragonfly boat back to port
Defeated by raindrops and the mist
We shook off dreams in drizzled fear
Dodging disaster for a time
This time when the sea pulled back the leash
David Trudel © 2013
