BECALMED

Here I sit becalmed, my sails are slack, the rudder dead in my hand.  What purpose I cry, as I drift on a windless sea looking for land.

The current slowly carries me along to who knows where.  I scan the horizon again, nothing is there.

Only yesterday, or was it the day before, a fair wind was blowing and I could see the shore.

When did it quit, I don’t even know?  I wasn’t aware when it ceased to blow.

Well, I’ll close for now, since I don’t know where I’m going, and finish when the wind again starts to blowing.

Marshall Warren