We sit in the warm afternoon sun.
The sand bar gleams.
The rocks show their teeth
almost to the green buoy.

Seagulls flash through the air,
the boats that slowly
turn in the tide.

In love with the wind,
he knew ledges,
where to find gooseberries,
where the herons nested.

He sleeps,
mouth open, eyes sunken,
on his last voyage,

Lari Smith