Regatta

The sailboats begin on the beach with only a whisper of a breeze. A big push gives them that extra burst needed to clear the rocks. As the lead boat, a dark blue sailfish, starts to scoot across the water into the open, the wind catches her colorful sail and gives her extra momentum. The remaining sailboats begin to glide into the wind line and the race becomes a dash to the round yellow marker.

The lead boat tacks back and forth, hoping to evade the group of sailboats pursuing her. A sunfish with blue and white sails begins to peck away at the distance between her and the lead boat. She uses a different tactic, taking longer tacks, gaining ground with each one. With the wind pushing them on, the marker, which once looked like a lone freckle on a bare back, is now only a few boat lengths away.

One by one, the boats round the marker, then begin the straight shot back to the beach. The dark blue sailfish has managed to keep her lead but this final stretch will be challenging. The wind, which has now gained strength, is at their stern quickening the pace. Spectators line the beach cheering on the competitors. The small boats scoot onto the beach one by one, the sailors glowing with excitement. All are winners today!

This was written for Friday 5 at Poefusion. Friday 5 words are in bold.

Life Among the Wood

With today being a 'snow day' for the whole family, I've had plenty of time to just sit and write, hence the many entries today. This was just a fun thing I decided to do after seeing this picture Scott took of the snowy pile of wood.

Stacked together in a pile with unlike kind
I’m left here to imagine what awaits me now.
At one time only a small part of a whole
Together a strong towering presence.
As we became acquainted with the earth
A transformation began to occur,
This tall tower, once unified and sturdy,
Now broken into many fragile pieces,
Left in a heap to become parched,
Thirsty for the drink that once hydrated.
Now arid, I find myself here amass
Awaiting my turn to enter the abyss;
At least it so seems to me.

Amid Inlets

Murky water laps at the post below the deck board
With snails clinging just above the water line.
Fog lingers on the surface like an alien mist
While the sun beckons her upward return.
A mislaid net ensnarled in the tall marshy grasses
Lays hold of a wayward fallen limb.
Low tide reveals the maiden silt left in her exit
Littered with crab shells strewn like tidal mines.
A gentle salty breeze laced with honeysuckle
Freshens up the stagnate marsh air.
This kaleidoscope of senses greets me,
Here at the dock amid inlets of our creek.

I wrote this poem using the title Amid Inlets which is an anagram of my blog title, "Island Time". This was a challenge by Poefusion, but I took it further and used four more anagrams of Island Time which I put in bold.

Island Snow 2009

We got our first (and probably only) snow of the season here on our island. Scott braved the cold and took some pictures.

Our snowy dock at the end of the creek.
The four great snow hunters!
Preparing for the great snowball fight!