The Ocean! The Ocean!

The past few days, I have been out on the water.
Out on the water in a black boat. On holidays.
Breathing in more fresh air than I’ve had all year.
Loving it.
Been on black lakes, in a black boat.
And today, the ocean.
The ocean! The ocean!
Seals all around us, surfacing.
We boated out to Hornby Island today. Tribune Bay, to be exact.

Lazed in the sun.
For some reason, in the midst of it, I thought of Sylvia Plath.
I know that Plath is not exactly..... jolly, as a rule.
But nonetheless, a genius poet, was she.
I’ve spent the day, crossing the water, astounded, and thinking....

Crossing the Water

Black lake, black boat, two black, cut-paper people.
Where do the black trees go that drink here?
Their shadows must cover Canada.

A little light is filtering from the water flowers.
Their leaves do not wish us to hurry:
They are round and flat and full of dark advice.

Cold worlds shake from the oar.
The spirit of blackness is in us, it is in the fishes.
A snag is lifting a valedictory, pale hand;

Stars open among the lilies.
Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?
This is the silence of astounded souls.

-- Sylvia Plath --