With rain bearing clouds
He stands on the deck
Hearing children playing below
Smokes a forbidden cigarette
Flicking ash toward the mangroves
Seeing that last fishing trip
Barra thrashing in the lagoon
And she calling them in to dinner
This last light bending on the moon
Like it might mean something
The smell of sea air, gulls calling,
Crabs seeking shelter, squid mating
Waters stained luminescent
With each beings need to be itself
But he can't see it for what it is
Draws another drag on his cancer stick
Eyes to the black horizon thinking
Life is out there, somewhere.
© shaun patrick green 2012
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