The question has always been concern for a seaworthy boat
They wondered, with diligence, could they make a living on a boat?
A pair, using their feet like white canes, search for sea glass
She hefts a splintered board broken off the hull of a demolished boat
Hurricane Edna, formidable, shorn even the rocky ledge
but did not take down the beacon that warns perilous boats
The father of her children climbed aboard a screw-steamer, the Alert
After months without word, they abandoned all hope for the boat
They cast out their nets fully expecting to haul in monkfish
that flip like pancakes on the bottom of the galley’s boat
On the other side of the ocean, friends gather to welcome her
Here, they wave hankies, dab eyes as the speck disappears: the boat
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