The overturned boat lies
forgotten in the grass
expecting mist to rise,
to thicken, to conceal
like spring runoff filled lake
bulging at shores,
tickling boat planks,
rippling back and forth
in lullaby mesmerism
drifting
by currents of wind,
floating on dreams
that by sunrise
someone will desire
a sail above fishes.
Diane Webster grew up in Eastern Oregon before she moved to Colorado. She enjoys drives in the mountains to view all the wildlife and scenery and takes amateur photographs. Her work has appeared in Philadelphia Poets, Eunoia Review, Better Than Starbucks, and other literary magazines.
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