A Vision in Three Parts

Sean D. Harvey

I.

The waft and tug north wind rides across two, white and blue,
canvas sails; a thump-loosed, steel-tipped halyard I see, flips
and rearranges itself, with level rhythmancy-
and ping-ringing echoes of the aluminum mast
dwindle on the urgingly air.  Seven-coat varnished
mahogany mirrors the magnificent glee-shouts
of exquisitely tanned children, towing a blond boy
on water-skis; he amazes himself as he bobs
and cuts through the tremulous churnings, and recovers
to cut once again.  The outboard boat smells like hot gas-
fumes, and unconsumed oil leaks into the swirling sloosh
of propelled water, as the ill-tuned Evinrude whines.

II.

Eyeless, gazing outward into frenzied pirouettes
of graceful waves, the miraculous willow-tree weeps-
its guardian post sparsely grassed; alone on a point
of ground.  Close by, the rocked bottom of a trickling stream-
though slight, still giving, into the horizon, declaring
its twinightly line.  A farmhouse is silhouetted
half-way up the once-blessed, slumbering, shaman mountain.
Eerie evening light summons visions of Galilee-
fishermen heckle and delight in row-boat fellow-
ships and tested lies of large-mouth bass, so big, as shown
by pudgy, fish-scented fingers.  Their calamitous
laughter praises pink heaven-lips kissing mystic hills.

III.

The reflective lake instead absorbs heavy purple
hues smeared with interspersed star-light - but not before gold
lily-pad blossoms resemble angelic scepters.