Manifest ; 

the   Abigail 


Oriental Fish

Let the sea billow and the sky echo its laughter with thunder, we smote the long dead waiting under the waves to claim our passage.


Storm watch;

Chronicle of the (Crow nest) 




Is she seaworthy?


 "only the sea would know"; ..


Captain of the Abigail, 


Stepping up portside the vessel sloshed to starboard as if to demand courtesy, each we polished the ship's bell and took no chances …


Crew of the Abigail 




Found on board;  


 Written in the margin of the ship's Manifest,


 "to be guided by the subtle intent of a smile, to communicate with laughter and speak no words. 


  Lessons taught to me by the wildflowers in her hair "...…..

A wine stain marked the page telling the compete story.


port: Babylon. 





"Made with wizard nails and wurm wood, the engine a gift from the sun God Rya"..


(crew of the Adagail ) ..




Traveler ;


only the future knows what path the adventurer took .. but the journey was won by its 1st step


………The first thing he did was to take a figurine from the window sill and place it on the dash. Next was a walking stick to remind him of all the places he had been.


A roadmap he would never use. Coffee to welcome the morning, wine to toast the end of day, matches to lite the dark, smoke to see into the future. 

A recipe for courage found in an old photograph he carried in his pocket.

 A lute to calm the blowing wind.

Unknowing as he stood, old as stone and young as morning rain, the horizon carries him away






Perhaps it has always been,

unseen behind the ether,

translucent just beyond the ultra violet,

a rumbling call at a frequency never understood only held in acapella .


Wonderment unfolds in all things,

the curling of the vine reaching for higher,

A tree cracking from center to hold both air and earth, lightning that burdens the heavens to find its messenger . 

Captain of the Abigail. 




winter solicits 


and over the Horizon it did come..


as expected as the day before, eyes baited with hope attached to bodies that longed for the warmth, swirls of new mist that carried the aura of being human to the clouds.



Tell myself fear  is a path yet taken, unseen it holds no real threat .but still the other side of my comfort zone reminds me I have failed often in this life .


.time is just a series of random events and the winner has a fair share. ..perhaps the "beyond here" and the Abigail will know more than I.


Captions journal 






With no destination  I would never be lost,


Without a watch I will never be late, 


I would walk in the shade and

keep shadows puppets in my pockets for friends and sleep by the light of the moon.


stowaway on board the Abigail 




 I came to a meadow so beautiful as to take my breath for a moment.


 The thought struck me that it was long knowing its own beauty, my presents mattered not.


Then I began to whistle the melody I just had made, each note seemed beyond my ability. pure in tone echoing back from a nonexistent surface never to be repeated. 


Would the valley note the passing of my moment?, a tune in perfect pitch? Would I have existed if not heard by the flowers that brought the joy, that brought the tune? 


Staying till the stars came, the night silent before the now unseen meadow the answer lilted into my being, seen from the far side of the meadow I am party to its total.


Captain of the Abigail 




Regret is a overtone

 wishes are melodies 

the words we whistle 

as we find our way home


Poet; unknown 




Sung below becks aboard the Abigail 




(Every guitar has a song in it

all horses have wings

there is a broke heart and the crack of dawn you are not meant to fix everything


the sky's full of diamonds

that float around the old man in the moon, the secret of gypsy dancing is let the fiddle tell your feet what to do.)




The journey's end


To appear again, a dandelion surrounded by the wildflowers of spring.


awed by the wind, carried to another hillside to be born again.


 a tree of a thousand years.


mystified by the clouds that cast shadows on the mesa, each day differs in subtlety and hue.


random thunder reverberates the near earth slightly, rain drops each a doorway to the next to be lifted and changed into yet another form.


The shadow that passes brings the wind and the dandelion appears again..