A Pair Of Old Pirates Poem by Norah Tunney

The days are short in late oct
we have supper early
and go down to the berth,
snuggled under five sleeping bags
we drink hot chocolate
and listen to the weather.

It freezes overnight
leaving frost on the cabin window
and snow on the hills,
but we are feather-downed
wrapped in each other
and the lapping water sound.

In the morning
we look like a pair of old pirates
wind-beaten, scrawny and wild
and we laugh with the sun
on our happily disheveled heads
drinking steaming coffee in bed.