Out at the end of a long wooden pier,
Where sky meets the water and sea breezes steer,
Around docks with pilings that bob up and down,
As gentle seas rise and then thump at the ground,

There is a soft peacefulness-content and assured,
A sleepy and quietness on the wings of each bird
Circling, lazily against the soft sky
Where sunset approaches and sailboats vie
On courses they tack to their harbors and ports.

Around a sharp corner of sweeping shoreline,
The wind and the waves mix with stony sea brine.
With roaring and ravaging whistling wind
That strip off the paint on each buoy and bin.

Here near this coastline the inner delight
Emerges quite bravely and faces the night.
On top of the swells human hearts beat alive
Uncertainty looming before the next dive.

Fighting and flailing an exigent boat,
Filled with the rush of each whistling note,
Plays musical danger and danger is sung
On choppy seas climbing and bells that are rung.

Come visit this island where sunset and sand
Are joined by a storm that threatens each hand.
Decide for yourself where to spend every night
Is it storms or wild whispers in which you delight?

Donald E. Felch
November 2003

This constitutes my voluntary submission of "Sunsets and Storms" to Poet's Corner.
Permission to publish is granted to Gary Hill under the terms published on the 
PC Website.  All rights reserved. Posted 17 Nov 03.

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