How you help me Chaneel Kat
gliding over the water
exploring.
Your sun-baked back
silver
like the water and sky.
You stretch your wooden arms
to the water
and push it away.
In the summer our fishing poles
like claws of a cat
swatting fish
hoping for a catch.
Chaneel Kat,
why do you groan?
At last are you tired?
From frantic flailing in storms
or orange sunsets in October?
When you smashed against rocks
Did it bruise you?
Who took care of you
before we found you
in the mill?
Compared to you
all other boats look silly.
With their enormous engines
and cantankerous captains complaining
about weather.
They don’t understand
the simple joy of a loyal ship.
One who stays afloat
on love
not design.