here is liquid country, expect no trees
but the occasional mast to pierce the sky

silk ripples, satin laps against the boat
but you’ve taken away the substance of today

salt, sand and an artefact I’m not supposed
to mention, you’re not allowed to take them

national parks hate people like you
stuffing a blip, ten blips, in their pockets

holiday of a lifetime and you spoil it
for me, a pillow cloud plays with dreams

the sky pitches a sun at us
we’re full speed ahead into light

wind encourages a swell
the Coolong turns in for another night

if only you could see the future
for the seas

seize nothing but peace
in this cooperative of life

©  Margo Ruckert 2008

Peter Macrow,
Tasmanian Times Poetry Editor.
Tasmanian poets or those with a Tasmanian link are invited to send up to 5 poems which have not appeared previously in print or electronic media to:
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For the complete collection, click here: Poetry, Peter Macrow

Margo Ruckert

out on water, the doubts we keep alive
drown in three hundred and sixty degrees of awe