I am a wooden boat. I never realized this before. I am a row boat not a canoe. The water is rough and the dock is white. I am tethered to the dock by a thick rope and the waves swell and knock me into the slip and around and around and I bob up and down. I am not seasick, but might be. For the moment I am settling in to my slip yet know it isn't possible to stay here.
I didn't even notice this before, but it is here.
Docked and tethered.
My paint is peeling and I am not leaking. Water isn't coming into me and I don't show signs of sinking even though I am uncomfortable swaying. Up and down; back and forth. I guess it is time to get on and go for a ride.
It's getting dark as the sun sets. The light is lovely on my bow and stern. Not sure which is front or back.
My oars are missing and I know there is a way to locate them. Absolutely. No problem.
There are two life vests: one for each of us.
The rope is attached to the dock and it isn't yet possible to untie the knot that keeps me tethered.
I'm not ready to leave. I'll stay here for now and watch the tide come in.
beautiful.
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