Wind on Water
By John Herlihy

The wind stirs
Drawn from a sea of stillness,
A breath unleashed
From the eye of the storm,
The lake shines a mirror,
Reflecting the morning made luminous,
An ancient shield of light,
Victorious in battle with the night.

Now the wind is upon the bay;
The waters are placid no longer.
The bay surrenders willingly
At the mercy of the wind.
The bright flame of sun
Now stirs its blood,
As if it be human
Emotions gather in the flood.

Wisps of white vapor are rising,
Remnants of dawn’s awakening,
As if wrapped in a ghost’s shawl,
Whispers amid the drapery,
The mist an unruly child,
Steaming with the sun’s heat.
The lake now set on fire,
Alive to the sparks of light’s flame.

I gaze and gaze upon the agitated waters,
Once still, now full of storm.
With the passage of time,
I become increasingly forlorn.
A barge appears out of the mist,
Carrying workers and piles of rock ore.
I am not the only one to weather
The wind that accompanies a storm.