between the shores

the wind surfer
glides
swiftly across
the grey blue
chop of the inlet.
his bright
green sail is
full of an early
autumn wind
as he twists
and turns, bends
his body
and mast
to where he wants
to go.
he's alone out
there. no ships
to beware of,
between the shores.
at an age
when he can do
this. alone.