For Lex Pelger and the Slow House on K Street
The “John H” just set sail beneath a fearless autumn sun.
A breeze strokes the water’s surface raising row upon row of goosebumps.
It’s harder than a caress softer than adolescent passion.
White bits of foam churn in the shoals around the Orient Point lighthouse
before giving way to the deep blue of the Sound
and the browns where the lands meets the horizon.
The day feels on the edge of a laconic Zen poem,
deeply breathed, with its energy burbling just north of Chi,
uncertain whether to rise or fall. Indeed,
as if on cue, the boat rolls starboard to port.
The pilot turns the ferry into the wind to smooth out the ride.
Inhale, “Clear, clear mind.
Exhale “Don’t know.”
Whether sun or no sun,
Wind or no wind,
Pitch or roll,
The “John H” sails upon the water
S/he will reach the other side around 2:30pm.