at the water’s edge

a boy crouched at the water’s edge
his fingers felt the waves
the pull of the current
tangle of chickweed
wash of passing swan
tickle of trout

inhaling scents of far-off places
breathing them out

he watched his toy boat
skip ripples on the breeze
blow under willows
where ducks gather
water voles bask in the sun
and he launched a dream

a craft he could sail on
white sails on a sturdy beam

Kim M. Russell, 8th April 2020

We cannot control the wind, but we can adjust the sails.' - Dolly ...
Image found on Pinterest

My response to Imaginary Garden with Real Toads NaPoWriMo Day 8 Play it Again in April 2020: L’ Arora

Sanaa’s prompt from 8th April 2018 introduced a new form created by Laura Lamarca, called a L’arora, which consists of stanzas of eight lines, with a minimum length of four stanzas. Its rhyme scheme is a b c d e f g f, with no syllable count per line. We were given the option of writing just one or two stanzas. Sanaa said that she loved not having to focus on rhyming, allowing the poem to come naturally.

I’m merging this prompt with Kerry’s Skylover Wordlist, sourced from Dylan Thomas’s poetry collection Deaths and Entrances, from which the eighth word is ‘craft’.

15 thoughts on “at the water’s edge

  1. This is such a sublime poem, Kim. It reminds me of those classics of Robert Louis Stevenson in its subject, descriptions and tone. Everything I love about English lyrical verse.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This is gorgeously rendered, Kim! 😍 I love the easy rhythm and grace with which this poem is penned! Thank you so much for writing to the prompt. 💝💝

    Liked by 1 person

  3. This is lovely, Kim. And the image could almost be me and my little brother launching his boat, The Star, which our Dad made him. We were about the ages the kids in the picture look to be — and that boat is practically identical to The Star!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Kim, I love your poem and all the memories it brought you, me, and most of your readers. Love the picture.
    Some times my little sister would tag behind. Being poor, my ship was a cast away glass bottle. At some time I knew of notes in bottles but I never did that. Had I, and turned it loose it would have gone to the Missouri River in Nebraska, into the Mississippi River, into the Gulf of Mexico to the Caribbean, and out into the Atlantic. My dreams went beyond my boat.

    Liked by 1 person

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