Cheating the Wind

You see it in his worn and calloused hands

You see it
in the cracks and lines
in his wizened face,
years of cheating the wind
and being chased 
by ghosts 
deep in the water 
and deep in his bones.

You see it
in his hands,
worn and calloused
from years
of pulling lines
and trimming sails 
to bring his boat about
and head in a new direction.

Deeper Reflection by Robert Bolster

You see it
in his eyes,
wary and weary, 
focused every day
on tedious tasks 
to keep the ghosts at bay.

Ghosts of good friends,
memories of them 
disappearing, 
ghosts of a dad
impossible to please,
no measuring up
no matter how hard 
he worked
or what 
he achieved.

He sought and found
solace at sea,
plowing coastal water
in old sailboats,
drowning himself
above the surface,
plying his own dark water
with his own dark spirits 
that quieted the ghosts.

Now he sits 
and watches over
a quiet harbor,
his latest old boat
bobbing and rocking
with the tides,
its rigging clinking
like a chime, 
him rubbing his hands
and blinking his eyes,
finally smiling, 
clearly recounting 
the good times.