A Constant Temptation
It is a constant temptation,
to get in the boat that brought you
and row again, not home
but to the river, to the sea,
to take this vessel, small as it is
and take it to places it was not created for,
foreign places with baroque towers
and ancient marbles, strange trees
and words you can not understand,
but left there long enough, will.
About this poem.
A touch of wanderlust in a rainy day. The picture was taken in Cornwall England, where my son and I had rowed to a small island to explore, as children will. The reference to strange trees is a callout to yesterday’s poem.