Remember Christina 
in the old painting, 
peach dress 
half lying 
in the far field 
to the graying homestead 
on a grayer sky? 

Repeatedly, I dream of gales, 
how they buoy us upward 
and bring us elsewhere 
to farther waters 
where the mist and even the fishes 
smell differently. 

It's trying, 
stuck here in a windless calm 
to begin dumping them overboard, 
the heavy things- 
the horses and such, 
just to make one's self 
a tad lighter 
in the pursuit of movement. 

I wept for a moment 
when the worn graying mare, 
slapping the water 
with a front hoof, 
then simply sank, 
and how unburdened of her 
I could sail on, 
catching a bit 
of my own breath.

Copyright 2000, Annette Spaulding-Convy 

Annette Spaulding-Convy is a high school teacher currently taking some years off to raise two small children in Kingston WA, where she gardens, writes poetry, and chases after a frisky basset hound.