Sailboat

Marching across the bay,
pushed by the wind,
dancing along,
on a warm summer’s day.

The breeze is blowing,
Singing its song.
Of a time when this lake
was a battlefield.

First between the natives.
For reasons now forgotten.
Then in the war for freedom,
But now all is peaceful.

My little sailboat
is fairing fine.
On the same waters
where battles were won,
and lost,
all those years ago.


Now the only turf wars,
are between the fish,
and the turtles
Marching across the bay,
pushed by the wind,
dancing along,
on a warm summer’s day.