the season of storm lingers
the tropics are restless
birds spin in a gyre
above the Sargasso sea
a fisherman tests the wind
and turns to port
the horizon is left behind
gray recedes to night
where earth and ocean meet
lightening scars the sky
I know the storm will come
I know I will get by
my shelter is quite clear
I see the light of grace
the light of home and peace
will be my resting place
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem