poetry

Voyage West

Here’s the latest poem called Voyage West.

Voyage West

Pa calls our wagon Prairie Schooner,

says we roll at the wind’s pleasure

sailing a sun-hammered sea.

Sure enough, we scrape and creak,

pitch and sway all day over grassy

swells and wildflower waves.  We set

our course west, always west.  

 

As the sun draws night’s hood overhead

Pa says sleep  but I lift my eyes

instead to the stars.  Brilliant and billioned

as a glittering school of fish, they swim

the wind-tossed sky.  These fish and I

sailor on through black leagues of night

heading west, always west.  

 

I rise early and from my perch

next to Pa, captain our craft.  How

it reels and rakes, how the sails

snap and flap, how the prairie wind

rams and rattles us.  Pa calls

Hold tight! and I do, through its

leans and lists, steering us straight

and steady west, always west.

 

Pa’s proud.  He knows that though

the wind breaks and bends us

I’ll command the helm from dawn

to dusk, until voyage ends and then

I’ll shout, Steady west, always west!

Ahoy! It’s Oregon!

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