going home

i watch the ship
struggle in the
wind as it moves
up the river, sails
down, powered by
a small engine,
plowing through
the unblue water,
sullen and colored
like iron from
the low sky.
thick with december's
weather. a small
flag is stiff in
the breeze.
there is no one
on deck, it's too
cold, too raw,
it's just an
empty vessel, or
so it seems, trying
to get to port
again. trying
to get home, like
all of us.