It's Still Life

I. The Lighthouse Sings:
Red and white, I stand crooked
as an old man’s spine,
scribbling your name in light
over the water.

II. Go!
Go! The horizon is a doorstep,
not a wall. I’ll keep the candles burning
in case you forget the way verbs
and salt are a homecoming.

III. The Jetty Mutters:
These boulders are hardened patience.
I’ve seen you before—
leaping my gaps like a child,
now stepping the mast like a goddess.
The tide’s chewing its nails,
wondering what you’ll bring back.

IV. The Sail Shouts:
Foolish clouds,
what are you watching?
I’m the one snapping their spine!

V. Wind and Sun
Wind is my co-pilot,
the sun is my gilded gossip.
Tell the shore I kept you brave.

VI. Old Friends’ Hands Wave:
(their voices, braided with brine)

Come home when the wind spits out
its sense of direction.
We’ll be here, stitching the dock
with stories and old wine.
VII. Leave us your wake—
we’ll knit it into scarves
for winter.

VIII & IX. The Bow’s Whisper:
Every curl of wave is a syllable.
Every sun-struck spark a stanza.
You thought you released them?
No—they’re pulling you back.

X. Ten Things of Thankful
The sea’s already scribbling my return
in ink made of bergamot and longing.

This is Denmark. Åhus. Åros.
This is sailing the North Sea.
Even the storms have manners.