I launch into uncertain deep, yet again:
rope-burnt hands wrestle wind-strain;
small craft, turmoil-tossed, storm water:
onboard wife, two sons (and dead daughter)
-cracked the keel, slightly shredded sails
but prow persistent, into waves prevails.
What kind of captain? A lost leader?
Word-weaver, talker, not map reader;
true tale teller, hopeful poet, anarchist!
Quixotic traveller, situation surrealist:
the best sea-dog you’ve got, I’m afraid;
slapstick cut cloth but hand-made.
To what safe shores do we navigate?
Motley crew (and mascot) anchor late.
What sea-faring tales, to children tell?
Will safe harbour will secure family well?
Round table warm, we drink and feast;
lighthouse lit, tired smiles released.