The Old Boatman Poem by Dan Brown

His greying whiskers are stroked by the breeze
as he stands by the shore and casts his eye over the world.
The sea licks at his wellingtons and a sharp-eyed seagull
watches from his rooftop perch, waiting.
He turns and strides up the beach, his open raincoat
flapping wildly in the gale.
The air is filled with the choking and grumbling of the old tractor, as he starts it up and links it to the crumbling trailer.
Together as one, they begin the journey down the sand to the open cavernous mouth of the sea
The Old Boatman looks so regal and grand, sitting up high in the tractor, with his battered sou’wester keeping the sun from his ocean-blue eyes.
As the sparkling water accepts his boat, he catches me watching.
He pauses briefly then climbs aboard, starts the engine, and moves off to shake hands with clouds on the horizon.