Ghost Ships

The sky’s deep waters
ripple
at the shore of vision.
Out on the horizon
sails fill with the widdershins winds
of change.
Sehnsucht song fills the air.
September is a sea
rising against the restraining wall of the year.
All the ships, all the ships, on the sea of air
are Skithblathnirs
piloted by ghosts.
See how the tall ships dance so close
but never touch
in their incorporeal flair. — Annette Marie Smith