Hermetic

The winds were infused with spirit,
the sands told this in elegant scrawl.

The clouds spoke of change and of
long days wrapped in hearth shawl.

Did this stop us from setting out,
me and two little ones, on an epic journey

to the other side of the bay? No,
though our vessel was indeed shipshape,

plastic kayak, and our stores adequate.
The way there was all songs and squabbles—

the usual humdrum of life at sea—and
our beach respite positively Crusoe.

I should’ve known better to allow the sea crab
on board, should’ve weathered the wails

of protest. It’s enough to tempt the Gods
once. When one of the mates threw him over-

board, I might’ve thought to turn back to camp
out the storm, though when is hindsight ever more

than false oracle? The kiddies cried “Hermie,”
“Hermie” the whole way back, afraid

for their new friend. I assured them everything
would be alright, even when we landed in

another cove that seemed so much like ours.
We’d veered off course. A thousand ways

to lose your way. No plan airtight. You name
things for what they are, you see things for

what they aren’t. You leave at the wrong time
and stay on far too long. The trick:

change your course as early as you can.