I know not how long I've been adrift. Time seems but a blur in my memory. I have no idea why I haven't been found in this busy sea lane twixt the Channel Islands and the distant coast. I've born up very poorly to the cold and damp at night and skin searing heat during the day. I hurt.
I spy various sized vessels occasionally skirting the horizon. None close enough. Fresh water miraculously appears in the bilge each morning. Condensed fog? I gratefully lap it up as if I were a dehydrated coyote. Food? I don't recall eating anything since I became aware of my drifting. Hrmmm, Funny, ----I'm not hungry!
I notice sea creatures every day; and sometimes at night when their movements excite the phosphorescence in the water; the same way my dory does, as it rocks in the slow swell, softly slapping the still surface of the Pacific. Tonight the moon is nearing its fullness, masked by passing clouds and swirling banks of fog and is mirrored nearly perfectly in the calm.
I feel uneasy in the magnitude of the stillness. No wavelets are lapping. Only my breathing and a persistant ringing in my skull. The quietude is insistantly pervasive of everything.
Suddenly, I realize I'm not alone---
( Now it's your turn to weave--) See blog entry "My Brother and I"
2 comments:
Are you by any chance called Santa Catalina Island?
What a mysterious notion,
an island in the ocean.
Floating, without a care,
a rocky and arid affair.
Isolated, lonely and bare.
like a lion in its lair
waiting,ever waiting for its share
Hrmmmmm could be----
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