Waiting for the Wind

A stillness in the water. Your craft barely rocks.
The wind light and uncertain,
as if it is trying to make up its mind
which way it wants to send you
and how fast, daring you to unfurl your sails
or plan.

No matter. There is work to do.
Tiny leaks to fill. Sails to repair.
Varnish on the eternal teak.
Polish on the cleats.
Better to do the work now
than in the wind.

And so, even if you are a wanderer at heart,
you are content, knowing
the wind will find its bearing and so will you,
and when it does,
you will be ready.

About this poem

I have felt like I am in the doldrums for some time. I have a good life and good, meaningful work. I have people who love me. A good life. But there is this underlying feeling that there is a new wind just out of reach and there is nothing to be done for it but to be ready to unfurl the sails when the time comes.

Or about sailboats. Poetry is never about one thing.

Tom