Ode to Old Boats

Standing on the wharf, you see the boat.
Not the stuff of holiday brochures, bright and shiny,
but a fishing boat, old and tired,
most of its paint stripped by Atlantic storms,
much of the hardware pitted from exposure to salty seas,
a quiet, persistent erosion.

This is not a boat for tourists.
It is a working boat,
Simple. Solid. Largely unnoticed,
but utterly reliable, for all its flaws.

Therein lies its inspiration.
There lies its value,
that it weathers the worst the Atlantic throws at it –
spurious storms and secretive erosion,
and continues, day after day
to bring fish to the hungry.

About this poem.

A poem for the people who continue despite their brokenness – social workers, pastors, care-givers, parents…the list is long.

To those who bring us life and help and hope and love, despite their own struggles, thank you.

Or of course, it could be a poem about old boats.

Tom