by River Wolton
A day from home she feels as tall
as the mast she lashed one roaring night,
radio down, listing but alive.
When the uncharted island shimmers into view
the warning tales slip from her memory;
she fails to log it with the team
who’ve got her pinpointed on GPS
and hourly report that hacks are poised for sound-bites
on the quay, lenses agog.
Out there, imperceptible to Skype,
the voices croon: Come,
it will never be this good again.
Later, the decibel analysis reveals something
that could be leatherbacks. And one neat splash,
off camera, from the bow.
Photographs of the event can be viewed here.
NCLA Water Poetry Competition website.