8 January 2023

By Philip Kuepper

Quietly, quietly,
through the night,
flakes of snow had fallen
and trimmed the boat
a lustrous white,
moonlight brushed pale lavender.
Come dawn, I found
a ghost boat had come
in off the sea,
and sat anchored
where, the evening before,
my boat had sat
anchored, safely, against night.
And as the light deepened
in the ever-latening day,
the snow slowly melted,
melted away,
until the whole of the boat
disappeared.
And all that sat anchored
was empty space.

(26 December 2022)