At the Back Door

From the safety of the glass
the turbulent world looks so tame
Out there where the wind on the Sound
whips the water into long corn rows of foam
lifts the spray into puffs of white smoke
like mortars tearing at the silent air
and not a single boat in sight

Here behind the breakwater
nameless boulders set on boulders
fencing in the harbors we call our home
we lie safe upon the mooring lines of fortune
We stand at the back door and we stare
at the sea we have not yet mastered
and know we cannot prevail

“I stand at the back door and stare.”
~ Irene McKinney

Advertisements

About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
This entry was posted in poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to At the Back Door

  1. SalvaVenia says:

    Yes, still some things around surpassing the mastery of mankind … An important point to be remembered.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s