Mediterranean Rowboat
A cradle of cedar, curved with care,
Rests where the sea and stillness share.
Its hull, sun-kissed, in sapphire light,
Glides not—but dreams of silent flight.
The ropes lie slack, the tide is low,
While shadows dance in depths below.
Salt air hums a soothing tune,
Beneath the hush of early morn
No oar disturbs the mirrored blue,
No wake to chase, no course to hew.
Just time held still in golden grace
A boat, a bay, a sacred place.
by Rod Ellis